


not even the rain

by loki (lokigurl)



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokigurl/pseuds/loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>no matter how far you run, your past always catches up.</p>
<p>a future fic set about 10 years after the series ends, written during the second season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"M~" Lucy called from the front. "Can you come up here for a minute?"

Maria sighed, then put down the beaded necklace she was working on. "Just a second," she answered.

Sometimes she didn’t know why she ever hired that girl. Lucy was relatively helpless and pretty much forgot everything that she was told. But, as Maria reasoned for the third time that day, it was good to have someone else work the register, giving her more time to spend in the studio.

Straightening the kerchief on her head, Maria emerged out of the back room and saw Lucy showing a piece of jewelry to a youngish looking man. Her hand immediately grabbed the wood of the doorframe to steady herself. From his profile, she had no doubt who it was. Hell, even if his back was turned to her, she’d know him anywhere.

Looking up, Lucy smiled at her, dangling the necklace in her hand. "Is this jasper? I always forget."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Maria walked over to them. Taking the choker from Lucy, she gently caressed the center stone with her thumb. "No," she said, meeting Michael’s eyes. "It’s jade. For luck."

He stared at her for a moment longer, then fixed his attention on the necklace in her hands. "Jade," he nodded. "It’s an incredible piece. Is it yours?"

"Yup," Maria said, placing it on the case. She didn’t quite know what she expected from this moment, but it had to be more than a conversation about her artistry. The harder she stared at him, the more intently he studied the choker. Maria was about to say something, but the door opened before she had a chance to articulate the thought.

"Michael, honey, there you are!" A tall raven-haired woman rushed over and took his hand. She was so striking – so amazingly beautiful – that Maria couldn’t help but gawk. "I was in the bookstore and one second you were there, the next you were gone. I got so worried!"

Michael rolled his eyes. "I was right next door. I didn’t just ‘disappear.’" He glanced over at Maria, immediately tasting his foot in his mouth. She was one step ahead of him, anticipating his look of subtle pity. Before her jaw could drop, she clenched it into a condescending smile.

"Rings!" The woman squealed. "One of these days, Michael…"

"Lucy~" Maria hinted to the girl.

"Right," Lucy nodded. "Is there anything you’d like to see?" she asked Michael’s girlfriend, leading her to the opposite side of the store.

Pushing the necklace towards Maria, Michael smiled half-heartedly. Maria had long since given up the hope of his return, especially one accompanied by guilt-wrenched apologies and grandiose declarations of love. Still, she felt that she deserved more than a few visible signs of his discomfort. But yet again, Michael Guerin didn’t fail to disappoint.

"So," she said, exhaling angrily.

"So," he repeated, glancing out the window.

Maria glared at him for a second, then placed the jewelry back in the case. "So, are you here to see Max?"

Michael whipped his head, and blinked. "Max is here?"

Crossing her arms, she narrowed her eyes. "I would have thought you’d have been able to hone in on his whereabouts."

"My, uh," he paused, "intuition isn’t what it used to be."

Maria smirked bitterly. "Well, I guess things change with time, don’t they, Michael?"

Apparently, that infamous blank look was one of the few things that had remained intact during his absence. And his silence. The hurt started to fight Maria’s anger for dominance.

"Oh, Michael, they have some of the most beautiful things here." Relieved, they both turned their attention to the brunette and away from each other. "I think that we should come back, or at least you should come back…" She smiled at Maria and giggled. "He’s going to marry me, but he won’t admit it to himself. Serves me right - falling for the stubborn ones."

"Yeah, I know how that is." Without even looking at Michael, Maria pursed her lips in a tight smile. "Just hang in there, I’m sure he’ll come around."

The sarcasm flew over the woman’s head, smacking Michael in the face. He stepped back as the brunette wrapped her arm around him and hugged him. Agitation was clear in his whole demeanor. "Yeah, well, we should get going," he grunted.

Maria waved to them. "Do come again!" Her voice so sweet it could send a diabetic into a sugar coma.

The door closed behind them, and Maria turned to Lucy. "You know what – it’s almost six. I’ll close up, you can have the rest of the night to yourself." Grabbing her coat with a giddy bounce, Lucy thanked Maria and ran out.

The blonde locked the door behind her and grabbed the phone. Four rings – an agonizingly long time to wait. Maria started in even before she heard "Hello."

"Liz – you are not going to believe who was just in my store!" Her words came out in a breathless rush.

"Oh, Maria," Liz rolled her eyes. "What celebrity was it this time?"

"No, no." Maria said. "Better. Or worse. I don’t know."

"Better? Worse?"

"Michael Guerin."

Liz was stunned into silence. No one had seen Michael in years.

"Hello?"

Shaking it off, Liz laughed nervously. "I’m here. Wow, that is so odd. Did he say anything?"

"No," Maria snorted. "You know Michael, not one for many words. He was in here with some tramp – she was kinda pretty. Okay, she was breathtakingly gorgeous, but that’s beside the point. She called him ‘honey’ – I didn’t think that ‘Michael’ and ‘honey’ were ever going to be in the same sentence together. Unless you were talking about food. Like, ‘Michael likes honey with his Tabasco sauce.’ Then I could see that."

"Maria."

"Fine, fine. I’m just… a little shaken up. I mean, no word to anyone for who the hell knows how long, and then, pretty much no word even now." She paused. "It’s so… him. And that’s so damn frustrating!"

Leaning back into her chair, Liz thought about Max and how he would react to the news. How Isabel would react. Maria was handling it surprisingly well – a frantic babbling attack was nothing new. Liz hoped that her heart was holding up as well.

"Liz?" Maria said, her voice breaking.

It wasn’t. "I’ll be right there."


	2. Chapter 2

By the time that Liz arrived, Maria’s anger was back in full force. She ranted for an entire hour about Michael’s typical cold demeanor, how he didn’t even bother to introduce her – or even make mention of knowing her - to his girlfriend, and she couldn’t believe that she still cared. There were a few moments, pauses where Maria was mentally searching for the next ‘Bash Michael’ topic, that Liz could see the pain deflating her best friend’s body. But then the blonde would catch herself and the tirade would begin once again.

The exhaustion of ire had finally broken Maria down. She collapsed on her bed, staring silently off into the corner. Liz sat next to her, gently stroking her hair.

"Maria, it’s okay. It’s okay."

Hopeful green eyes turned to Liz, drowning in tears. Maria fell into her best friend, clutching tightly on to her shirt. Her sobs only intensified as Liz kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. Her body was grateful for the sweet tenderness, and the unspoken permission to let go and just cry. She was still furious that he had this power over her, even after all this time, but it was no longer the time for anger. The screaming and yelling just made it hurt all the more. And if there was one thing Maria wasn’t going to do, it was to give him any more control over her life.

A subtle beeping emanated from the other room. Maria sat up straight and looked around, confused. Jumping up, Liz ran out and grabbed her bag. "It’s my phone. I’m so sorry, hold on a second?" The blonde nodded and watched her friend intently.

"It’s Max," Liz whispered. "I left him a note… I hope you don’t mind."

Maria smiled weakly. "Is he coming over?"

"Do you want him to?" Her voice still low.

"Yeah," the blonde sighed. "He should know, tell him to come."

Liz cocked her head and touched her friend’s cheek. "Ok, ok. Come over," she said into the phone. "Just come upstairs, we’ll be here." A few parting words, and she placed the phone on the bedside table. She returned to Maria’s side and took her hand.

"Liz?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

***

The two girls were still in the bedroom when Max got to the apartment. The place was eerily quiet – he knew that it was a bad sign. He knocked on the door tentatively and pushed it open. Maria was curled up in Liz’s arms, a box of tissues on the floor beside them.

"Hey," he said softly.

Maria broke out of Liz’s embrace, grabbing a tissue to wipe her eyes. "Hey Max."

Max sat down in the chair next to the door and started rubbing his hands together. "So… he’s here. God, Maria, I’m so sorry that you had to be the one…"

She raised a hand to quiet him. "It’s okay. Just the way my life works," she said, forcing a laugh.

Liz squeezed Maria’s hand, then stood up. "I’m going to get some water. Does anyone else want anything?"

"Water is fine, thanks." Max smiled.

"Um, Chamomile tea? It’s on the…"

"Shelf next to the fridge." Liz finished for her. Maria nodded sheepishly, and Liz left the room.

"What, uh, how, um, I mean…" Max stumbled over his words. "What was he like?"

Maria slid off the bed and walked towards the window. "He was… Michael. Man of little words, little explanation, little… everything." She stared blankly out the pane of glass. "He barely even acknowledged my existence. After all this, you’d think I’d get a ‘Hey Maria.’ But no… not even that."

"Maria, I ~"

"You don’t have to apologize, Max." She looked back at him. "You aren’t responsible for his actions. And besides… you came back. Both of you. Sure, Isabel went off to New York for school, but when that summer was over, you both came back to Roswell, like you said you would."

"Yeah, but… but, it wasn’t what uh, people were expecting." He motioned towards the door. "Coming back didn’t really solve anything. In some ways, it made things worse."

Maria crossed her arms and smiled at him endearingly. "She’d probably kill me for saying this, but I was glad to see that you didn’t come back and start things up again. I’ve never really told you this, but I have always respected you for that decision. With all the pain that it caused you to stay away from her, in your heart, you knew it wasn’t time." She came back to the bed and sat down, her eyes on his. "In your own twisted way, you are always looking out for the people you love."

Blushing, Max looked down. "Sometimes I don’t feel that way." He started twisting one of the rings on his finger. "Like with Michael - maybe I should have stayed with him. Not let him continue on without us. There isn’t a day that I don’t think about that."

"It wasn’t your place." She shook her head. "Trust me, Max, I have probably spent the same amount of time pondering the actions of Michael Guerin, trying to figure out what is going on in that little alien-brain of his." Sighing heavily, Maria continued. "I’ve been angry for a really long time, and it has hurt for even longer. But the one peace that I’ve been able to make is this: that it was what he needed to do – for him. I don’t think you would have been happy out there on his quest. You needed to find your own place."

Liz returned, balancing two glasses and a mug. She handed the tea to Maria, then sat down on the floor at Max’s feet. Maria watched as his eyes were glued on Liz’s every move – as if he was seeing her for the first time. He always did that, actually. And it always warmed her heart – to know that her best friend was loved so deeply and completely.

"Know what guys?" Maria started, taking a quick sip. "I’m actually feeling a lot better now. Why don’t you go home… it’s getting late, and we all have stuff to do tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Liz asked, surprised and a bit concerned.

"Yeah, we don’t have to go… we can stay as long as you’d like," Max added.

"No," Maria smiled. "I’m okay. Really."

Unconvinced, Max and Liz got up and reluctantly collected their things. Maria walked them to the door.

Hugging her best friend tightly, Liz kissed her cheek. "Call me if you need me. Anytime, you know that."

Max leaned over and kissed Maria as well. "I’ll talk to you tomorrow." He paused, biting his lip. "If he, uh… comes by…"

"I’ll give him your number." Maria nodded.

"Thanks," he said, a bit embarrassed.

Closing the door behind them, Maria turned off the lights as she walked back to her room. Her mind was still racing, although her body was crying out for sleep. She picked a video off the shelf and popped it into the VCR. Flipping the last switch by the door, she crawled into bed and pulled up the covers. ‘Michael Guerin…’ she thought to herself, closing her eyes. ‘Michael-fucking-Guerin.’

***

"Max?" Liz asked as she slid under the covers.

"Hmmm?" He answered, pulling her closer to him.

"Why did you come back?" She rolled away from him slightly and waited for his response.

His eyelids popped open, a bit shocked. "Come back? You mean, that summer?"

"Yeah."

Max exhaled, then reached for her hand. "It just seemed like the thing to do."

"The thing to do?" Liz repeated, sounding insulted.

"It’s not like that." He tried to piece together his thoughts. "We were out there for so long, and while we saw some pretty amazing things, it just never felt like it should last longer than a couple of months. By mid-August, Is and I – we knew it was time to come home. And we knew what ‘home’ we needed to return to."

"Do you ever regret it?"

Kissing her head, he squeezed her tight. "Never. There are times that I think I should have stayed with Michael – I worry about him every day. But after a while, it became his vision quest – much more than ours. I’d found my balance, he needed to find his." He paused. "No, I never regretted coming back. Ever."

Liz smiled against his chest. She remembered how overjoyed she was that he had returned to Roswell, but how it wasn’t all that she had hoped for. Sure, he came back, but he didn’t come back to *her.* Not for a long time. Years passed and they became better friends, but his lips never even wandered in her direction. Well, not until she moved across the country.

She hugged him back and relaxed. "’Night Max."

"’Night."


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning came without incident, and Maria sat up feeling well-rested and content – not remembering anything from the night before. Her memory was jarred by the small pile of tear-soaked tissues on the floor by her bed. Immediately, she felt her stomach drop as the image of Michael flashed in her head. Michael. In her store. With his girlfriend. She shook her head, trying to erase the memory, but it was still there.

‘Maybe a shower will help. A cold, cold shower.’

After her morning ritual of yoga and tea, Maria dragged herself downstairs to the studio. The shop wouldn’t be open for another hour and she could use the time to call in some orders. She leaned against the counter and flipped through the mail from the day before. ‘Bills, Bills, more bills. At least now I actually have the money to pay them.’ As she ripped open the first envelope, she heard a slight rapping at the glass door.

Maria peeked out from behind the door, ready to inform the over-eager shopper that the store wasn’t open yet. "Wonderful," she grumbled to herself. "This is just what I need." She stomped over to the door and unlocked it in a huff, turning around just as brusquely. "Lock it behind you, thank you very much," she sniped.

Michael wordlessly locked the door and followed her into the back room. Maria sat down in a chair and looked up at him, her eyes burning, making his skin tingle.

"What do you want Michael? Oh, and before you answer that – let me just say that we suddenly had a rush on engagement rings, and I don’t think that I’ll be able to help you out in that department." She sneered.

"What?" He asked, confused. "Oh, no. Not that. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about."

"Fine, then why are you here?"

"I came by… to see you." He glanced away from her.

"Oh, you came by to see me. Because…?" She waited for an answer. Sucking her teeth angrily, Maria continued. "Because you have been so concerned about me and how I’ve been doing for the past five years? Because you couldn’t drop anyone a line – not even Isabel or Max – all this time? Because, because, because…" Narrowing her eyes, she watched him study the poster on the opposite wall. "What are you even doing around here, anyway?"

Finally, he looked back at her. "Her grandfather died and we’re here to settle some estate stuff. Well, Lydia’s here to settle estate stuff. I just came along for the ride."

"Lydia." Maria smirked to herself.

"Yes, Lydia. And?" He asked, a little annoyed.

"Oh, nothing. I just watched ‘The Fisher King’ last night." Michael stared at her blankly. "It’s a movie. Robin Williams? Of course you’ve never seen it." Maria rolled her eyes. "Anyway, there’s this song that he sings: ‘Have you seen Lydia? Lydia, Lydia, Lydia – Lydia the tattooed lady…’" She waved her hand quickly, in an attempt to dispel the thought that she was mocking him. "Not that I’m making any comment on your girlfriend. It’s just a song…"

"Sure." Michael nodded. Then something small caught his attention. A glint of silver between Maria’s fingers. "You still wear the ring?" he asked in wonder.

Spreading her fingers wide, she glanced over them. "Which ring? The silver one? Of course I still have it – Max gave it to me for my birthday."

"Max gave it to you." Michael repeated, his voice a bit shaky. "From him?"

"Um, yes." Maria answered, raising her eyebrows. There was something odd in his tone, something that she hadn’t heard in a long time. "Why? Is there something about this ring that I should know about?"

Michael didn’t respond. He stared at the floor, as if he were trying to bore a hole into it with his gaze.

"Michael?" Silence. "Fine, you know, I have a lot of things to do today – and it would be a whole lot easier to get them done if you would leave."

He nodded, and left the room.

Watching him go, a feeling of guilt swept over Maria. "Wait!" She called out, scribbling on a piece of paper. He stopped at the front door and dug his hands into his pockets. Maria held the paper out to him. "It’s Max’s numbers – work and home. He wanted me to give them to you."

Taking the number from her, Michael smiled weakly at her. "Thanks, Maria." He then opened the door and walked away.

***

Michael trudged back to the Bed and Breakfast where they were staying. It was Lydia’s idea – she thought it was ‘quaint.’ Frankly, he was a little unnerved by the place. There were always people milling about and he was expected to be somewhat social. Being social was never something that Michael had ever strived to be.

Still, it was what she wanted, and he acquiesced - it was much easier than arguing. Michael didn’t have the strength or desire to debate every little point anymore. Plus, Lydia usually let him get his way. She didn’t like fighting, either – not like Maria.

Maria. That was something that he wasn’t ready for. He always had the feeling that he’d see Max and Isabel again, but not Maria. Never Maria. She caused him too much stress, made him think things he didn’t want to, made him feel things he wasn’t prepared for. Even the few minutes in her presence annoyed him. Just her tone made him want to snap back at her, but he didn’t. When Maria argued, she would bring up things that echoed in his head for days after. Echoed in his heart for months after.

Michael sat down on the patchwork quilt that covered the soft, squishy bed. The entire night, he tossed and turned, longing for the sturdiness of the floor. But that would have upset Lydia – she was already acting strange after leaving Maria’s shop. So, he stayed in the bed, grateful for the moment when his body gave up and just slept.

He stared down at the piece of paper in his hands. Tracing over the scrawled name with his finger, Michael thought about Max. He missed Max, more than he thought he would. It was hard to be on his own, to be without another soul that understood – understood everything. Michael glanced at the phone, then back to the paper.

‘Why didn’t he tell her? Why did he say it was from him?’ Michael wondered, anger brewing. He had explained to Max how important it was to give to her. Okay, maybe not *explained* - but words were never necessary between them. Max just seemed to know – and he always sensed what Michael was feeling. That ring was the one thing that Michael wanted Maria to have from him, the one thing that could even come close to being worthy of her. He sure as hell wasn’t.

Crumpling up the scrap in his hand, Michael lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. His head hurt again, and he needed to think. Think about what to say to Max, what to tell him, how to let him know that the trip was basically a failure. In all his travels, Michael only came across one real truth, and it was burning a hole into him. Maybe it would hurt less if he told someone, if he could sit down and talk to Max and Isabel about it. His body let the bed conform to his shape, and before he could reach for the phone, Michael was asleep.

**

The morning had been a waste – nothing had been paid, no calls had been made, no work done on any impending project. Maria had done little more than sit on the stool behind the counter, sipping tea. When Lucy came in four hours later, she found her boss sitting stiffly and staring blankly at the opposite wall.

"Maria," Lucy giggled, snapping her fingers. "Earth to Maria."

The blonde shook herself out of her daze and looked at the clock. "Oh good, you’re here." Suddenly filled with energy, Maria jumped off the seat and grabbed her bag. "I have to go run an errand, I’ll be back soon." She shuffled out to her car and pulled out with a distinct destination in mind. She was going to get answers.

**

"Hey Maria." Max looked up from his desk. "What brings you here in the middle of the day?" His smile faded as he saw the look of utter seriousness on her face. "Did he, uh, did you see Michael?"

Maria closed the door behind her and stepped forward to sit down across from him. "Where’s the ring from, Max?"

Max gulped. "The ring?"

"Don’t Max, Don’t." She warned. "I know that there is something about the ring you brought back. I want to know what you haven’t told me."

Max studied her carefully. He could tell by every clenched muscle in her body that she wasn’t leaving until she got the truth. "The ring," he said quietly, "The ring is from Michael. He asked me to give it to you."

"*You* told me that it was a birthday present. *You* said that you bought it on your travels. *You* had it for months and didn’t say a word." Her tone was accusatory, but its volume stayed level. "Were you ever going to tell me that it was from him?"

He looked down, then met her eyes again. "It was more complicated than that."

"How, Max?" Maria yelled. "We are *friends.* We have an agreement, remember? No secrets. I can tell you things that I can’t tell anyone else, and you tell me things that I have never repeated to another soul. You know things that *Liz* doesn’t know. I have *never* kept anything from you." Her eyes turned cold. "So, what other things have you been keeping from me? What else have you lied about?"

Frustrated, Max jumped out of his chair and leaned over his desk. "Dammit, Maria – just stop." He was deeply wounded by her lack of trust in him. She was right, they shared almost everything. That night flashed in his head - a few years ago, after a party, they found themselves separated from everyone else. That night things changed, certain boundaries were crossed, and they realized that their loneliness and confusion was mirrored in the other. Alone and depressed, that was the night that Max and Maria became friends.

And, as a friend, Max had to be honest with her, no matter how much it might hurt. "You want to know why I didn’t tell you? The look on your face when we drove up. I watched your heart break as you realized that there were only two of us in the car. I knew right then and right there that I couldn’t tell you."

"Why?"

He walked around and stood in front of her. "Seriously, Maria. How would you have reacted if I said, ‘Hey, Michael said that he can’t ever see you again, but here’s a ring to remember him by’?"

There was something about Max’s face that told her that he was still holding something back. Her eyes scanned over it, and she jerked slightly at the realization. "Not *couldn’t.* *Didn’t want* to. He *didn’t want* to see me ever again."

"He didn’t want to see you ever again," Max repeated, almost whispering.

Tears filled Maria’s eyes and she immediately dropped her head down. Max stroked her hair and murmured, "I’m so sorry, Maria. I didn’t want you to find out, especially not like this."

"It’s okay," Maria pulled away, wiping her eyes. " I needed to hear it. I needed to know." She sighed, then asked, "Why did you give it to me, anyway?"

Max returned to his seat. He furrowed his eyebrows and thought about Michael and the ring. "Because it was important to him. It was important to him that you have it. The night before we had taken peyote." He paused. "A lot of peyote. Anyway, Michael disappeared with White Eagle - we didn’t see him until the next morning. When he got back, Michael, Isabel and I just sat around what was left of the fire. We all just knew… it was in our eyes, it was in his. Is and I were coming back to Roswell, and he was staying – moving on, whatever. He just wasn’t coming home."

Under Maria’s intent scrutiny, Max continued. "So, as Isabel started to pack up the car, he pulled me aside and we went for a walk. He gave me the ring and asked that I give it to you. Before he handed it over, he just stared at it for a long time, then pressed it into my hand. Then with a painful smile, he added, ‘Please.’’ Max met Maria’s eyes straight on. "It’s a rare occasion that Michael has ever said ‘please.’ I don’t even know if I can think of another time I heard that word come from his mouth."

Maria laughed and nodded. The short burst of noise seemed to relieve some of the pressure that was building up in her chest. That was Michael all right. Short on words, long on implications. She took a deep breath and got out of the chair, grabbing her bag.

"Are we ok?" Max asked, obviously concerned and worried.

"We’re ok, Max." Maria smiled. "I wish you would have told me, but I understand. I do. I probably wouldn’t have listened, anyway." She reached over and touched his hand. "But I should go. I’ve learned not to leave Lucy alone for any extended period of time."

Max chuckled, "Ok. I’ll talk to you later?"

"Of course." Maria’s voice trailed behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

Max walked into the apartment exhausted. It had been a long night and an even longer day. The look of realization on Maria’s face flashed in his mind. He grabbed a bottle of aspirin and downed two with some water. Coughing heavily, he replaced the bottle and double-checked the note in his pocket.

"Isabel will be here tomorrow," he reminded himself. He had called her shortly after Maria left. Isabel called him five minutes later with her flight details. "Thursday, 2:47pm." No airline, no flight number. Annoyed with himself, Max picked up the phone to call his sister. A chorus of knocks sounded on the door. Max hung the phone back up and walked over to answer the noise.

"Michael," he said to the weathered young man at the door.

"Maxwell," Michael nodded.

Still in shock, Max opened the door wider, and stepped back. "Come on in…"

Michael stepped past him and looked around the apartment. "Thanks."

"Can I get you something?" Max closed the door and walked into the kitchen. "Uh, we have some water, juice, soda. There should be food in here, or I can order."

"I’m fine."

"So, um~" Max poured himself a glass of orange juice.

Michael sat down on the stool next to the phone. "Listen, I’m sorry that I didn’t call first. I tried, but I just didn’t know where to start. So I looked up your address and came over."

"That’s, I mean, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad to see you." He took a sip. "How *are* you, Michael? What have you been doing?"

"Nothing much." Michael shrugged.

"So, you’ve just been wandering all this time?" Max asked.

"Yeah, that’s about it."

"Nothing much!" Max muttered to himself. "You’ve been gone all this time and all I get is ‘nothing much’?"

"Trust me, nothing much."

Michael’s nonchalant manner was starting to get to Max. He stared at him hard, then stormed across the kitchen in a huff. Tossing the rest of the juice in the sink, Max grasped onto it with both hands. This is not what he expected the reunion to be like. Max wanted some kind of answer – or some kind of crazy story that would explain the years without any sort of contact. But Michael obviously didn’t care. He didn’t care that everyone had been concerned about him nor did he care that he had hurt a lot of people.

"Why are you here, Michael?" Max spun around. "I mean, here – in my house. What’s the point?"

Michael stood up. "This was a mistake." He started for the door.

"No!" Max yelled, grabbing him by the arm. "You are not leaving like this again."

Shrugging him off, Michael started rubbing his temples fiercely. "What do you want from me, Max? What do you want?"

Max stood squarely between the door and his friend. "I want answers. I want to know where you’ve been, I want to know what has kept you gone for so long. It was only supposed to be another year, remember?"

"Another year, another four years, what does it matter?" He kept looking at the floor.

"Michael."

‘Dammit, he is always doing this. *Always* trying to take control of the situation.’ Michael brought his head up to meet Max’s glare. "You want answers? Well, maybe I want some answers of my own."

"What are you talking about?" Max looked at him like he was insane.

"What am I talking about? Why did you tell Maria the ring was from you? What were you trying to do?" Michael’s eyes turned cold. "Is there something I should know about?"

"I can’t believe you, Michael. I really can’t. You truly think that I would do something behind your back?" Max fell back, wounded. "This is too much. Ten minutes back, and already you’re accusing me of trying to steal Maria. Someone who you’ve spent more days than I can count expounding on her faults and annoyances. Someone you’ve been running away from since before you left."

"All I know is that she has the ring, and she thinks it’s from you. Mighty nice present from a ‘friend.’"

Max stepped up into Michael’s face. "I *am* her friend. And I’m going to tell you what it’s like to be her friend. I got to see the look on her face when Isabel and I drove home alone. I got to watch her heart smash into pieces when she realized that another year had passed and you hadn’t come back. I got to spend months trying to convince her to move out here with me, so I could be closer to Liz. And today, I got to be the one who broke her heart all over when I told her that you didn’t want to see her ever again." He paused, breathing heavily. "I am grateful for my friendship with Maria. I am thankful for all the times that she’s listened to me. You missed out on her friendship - *you* didn’t have the guts to stick around. So, don’t you dare accuse me of having designs on her or of being some manipulative bastard. In fact, don’t even say anything."

The two stood still, trading menacing glares. The tension and anger was hotter than either could remember. Each one grew more furious with the passing seconds. Michael clenched his fists, failing to control his breathing. Noting his action, Max exhaled harshly, his warm breath beating down on Michael’s face. They were feeding off each other’s anger, their bodies lightly trembling from rage.

"Anyone home?" Liz’s cheerful voice broke into their trance. She pushed open the door and stopped when she realized what was going on. The bag of groceries dropped at her feet. "Michael?"

Michael turned and looked at her. "Liz."

Liz glanced over to Max, trying to read him. He wouldn’t look at her, he was afraid that if he did, all his momentum would be lost. Max was not a violent person, but right now he would not object in the slightest to hitting Michael.

Unfortunately, Michael wasn’t about to give him that chance. "I was just leaving." He took one long hard look at Max, then turned towards the door.

Just as he was about to walk out, Max called after him. "Isabel will be here tomorrow. I suggest you be here too." Michael paused momentarily, then continued down the stairs.

Liz rushed over to Max, frightened by this side of him. "Max, what happened? Are you okay? What’s going on?"

Slightly dazed by the blood pumping through his system, Max kept staring across the room, trying to cool himself down. Mindlessly, he took Liz’s hand and squeezed it. "I’m fine. We’re okay. It’s late… let’s just go to bed."

**

Plodding through the rain puddles on the sidewalk, Maria took another sip of her tea. Her tongue harshly retracted from the plastic lid, scalded. It was a daily ritual – a walk down to the coffee shop on the corner to get a large herbal tea to start the day. The water was always too hot, and she always burned her tongue. Today, she took comfort in the pain – one of the few familiar things in the sea of unexpected turns that had filled her life lately. Only three more minutes before she got back to her store. The blonde laughed at herself, at how mindlessly routine her days had become… before Michael came to town.

"Are you Maria?"

Maria stopped dead in her tracks, turning around to face the voice behind her. "Excuse me? What?"

"You are… you *are* Maria, aren’t you?" Lydia walked up, her arms crossed tightly around her.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I knew it. I just knew it was you." Lydia shook her head, almost hurt. "He’s been edgy ever since we left your store that day. I’ve never seen him that… thrown by someone. I couldn’t quite figure it out at first, I mean, he’s never been here… how could you two possibly know each other? But that night, I realized that you were her… Maria."

"I still don’t understand what you want." Maria eyed the woman suspiciously. "What does it matter if I’m ‘Maria’ or not?"

"I just thought… well, I thought that you could help. Help him… I mean." Lydia’s eyes studied Maria for some reaction.

"Michael doesn’t want my help," Maria answered, her tone cold.

The brunette’s face flinched when she heard Michael’s name spoken. As much as she wanted to help him, Lydia was terrified that as soon as he found the elusive Maria, he would leave her. "Michael doesn’t always know what he wants."

"Look," Maria was getting impatient. "Do you have some kind of a point or something? Because I have to get back to work. Like, now."

"It’s his dreams. They’re getting worse."

Maria’s face softened for the first time. "Dreams?" she asked, concern thick in her voice.

"It used to be once in a while, but lately they’ve been coming almost every night. He starts sweating and shaking… sometimes he tosses and turns, sometimes he mumbles something that I can’t understand. I can usually wake him up out of them, but he won’t tell me what they are about." Lydia paused to regain her composure. She was about to lose it on some public street in front of a woman she hardly knew. "Only one thing is always the same… he calls out for Maria." Her despair shined out from behind the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "Michael would never tell me who she was, every time he’d change the subject, say it was no one. But I knew that it was something more than that. The way he calls out… it’s like he’s trying to find her, or hoping that she… you would find him."

She could feel it happening again. The wall that Maria had modeled after Michael’s own was crumbling down as the other woman spoke. Mentally, she cursed Michael for once again making her care, but deep down she knew that she had never stopped. Taking a long sip of her tea, Maria fixed her eyes on the ground.

"I don’t know what I can do," the blonde said in sad resignation.

"I’m sorry… I’m sorry I bothered you."

"No, it’s… I just don’t know what I could do or say to make it better. Michael hasn’t spoken to me in over five years… by his choice. I can’t imagine how I could make anything better."

"I understand." Lydia nodded again, then met Maria’s eyes. "Please don’t tell him I told you. Please."

Maria smiled painfully. "I won’t." She looked at her watch. "I really should be going, I’m sorry." Turning around, she walked back to her store, leaving the brunette standing alone in the middle of the sidewalk.


	5. Chapter 5

"He’s done it again."

Liz closed her eyes at the sound of Maria’s voice. From the moment she learned Michael was in town, Liz knew that it was only a matter of time before her best friend started to unravel. It had barely been two days, and his presence was already wreaking havoc on the people she loved. "What happened?"

Maria recanted her encounter with Lydia in great detail, peppering her monologue with certain expletives about the alien. Liz listened to the angry words spewing through the phone, but it was the overwhelming fear that she heard the clearest. Fear and self-loathing, actually. They always went hand in hand when it came to Maria and her feelings about Michael. After he had left her with broken promises, Maria hated the fact that she still cared - about where he was, how he was, if he was okay. Liz knew that once Maria admitted to herself that she was worried about Michael, the next inevitable step would be an all-consuming disgust at her own vulnerability.

"So, what do you think?"

"Think?" Liz asked.

"About what I should do." Maria replied, frustrated. "I mean, what does this chick expect from me? It’s not like I can just waltz up to him and say, ‘So, what about your dreams?’ Like he’d even answer me… besides, how would I even find him? It doesn’t matter – he’s so stone cold about everything, I don’t think that he even cares about any of us anymore."

"I don’t know about that."

"Why? Did something happen?"

Liz bit her lip. "Well, I don’t know much. I came home last night and I found Max and Michael in our living room – staring each other down. It was really frightening – I honestly think that if I didn’t walk in at that minute, they would have beat the hell out of each other. That’s not quite the action of someone so stoic." She paused, but there was only silence on the other end. "Anyway, Isabel is flying in this afternoon. Max’ll be leaving to get her soon. Maybe they can find out about his dreams."

Maria sat up in shock, dropping the pen she was doodling with. "Isabel is coming? That should be interesting."

**

"I’m going to kill him, Max. I swear, I’m going to kill him." Isabel Evans handed her brother her carry-on case and started off towards the baggage claim.

Max laughed to himself as he darted through the crowd to catch up with her. "Isabel…"

"Don’t ‘Isabel’ me. He said a year. One year. It’s been more than a year, Max."

"I know, Is. But maybe we should hear him out."

The blonde began to nod violently. "Oh, I’ll hear him out. *After* I kill him. Then he can talk all he wants."

"Is."

"Listen, Max, you are *not* taking control of this one. I’ve been waiting a long time for this." She took the bag from him and pulled out a bottle of water. After gulping down half of it, she recapped it and put it back in. "I’m tired, I’m grumpy, and I’m not so thrilled about draining my bank account for a last-minute flight out of Roswell. So, if I want to kill him – I get to kill him, no comment from you."

Max rubbed his face and shook his head. He knew that when Isabel was in a mood there was no talking her out of something. And he knew that she didn’t really want to kill him. It had just been the culmination of five year’s worth of worry and fear of the unknown. He was still confused as to why he had such a violent reaction to Michael’s return, so he couldn’t fault her for having the same murderous fantasy.

"C’mon, let’s just get your stuff and go home."

"When is he coming over?"

"I don’t know."

"You don’t know?" She turned to him, exasperated. "Well, call him. I want to see him *now.*"

"I don’t have his number."

"Max!" Isabel yelled, grabbing his arm. "How do you know that he’ll even show up? How do you know he won’t just leave?"

"It’s Michael. He’ll come."

**

Closing the store, Maria crossed the street to the deli. With Isabel’s arrival, they had decided it would be best to have a ‘girls’ night’ – leaving Max and Liz’s apartment to the alien reunion. Checking the dairy case, Maria picked out a few tubs of Ben and Jerry’s and grabbed a couple of containers of whip-cream. As the cashier was ringing her up, Maria noticed a familiar mop of hair over in one of the booths. Her breath caught in her throat, and the girl had to repeat the total three times before Maria realized what she was saying. She handed over the money and took the bag, head down, determined to ignore him. Before her hand even touched the door, Maria knew that would be impossible.

Turning around, she marched purposefully over to his table – the entire time afraid that she would lose her nerve. When she got to him, Maria stood there silently, her mouth slightly agape. Michael looked up at her – half confused, half anxious about what she might say. Shaking it off, Maria spoke.

"So, uh, what about your dreams?"

Michael’s eyes widened, then glanced away. "Dreams? What dreams?"

It was too late to run now. "The dreams you’ve been having. The ones where you are calling out for me," She blurted out without thinking.

"I don’t know what you are talking about." He refused to look at her.

Maria wanted to smack herself. ‘Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit – I knew this was a bad idea. I should have left and not said a word.’ She inhaled, and grasped her bag tighter. "Fine." Spinning around, she took four steps and stopped short. Maria fidgeted for a moment, then walked back to the table and placed something near his hand, and turned to go.

Michael stared at the small ring that lay on the barren table. His finger traced over the top – it had been a long time since he had held that same ring in his hand. He knew what she was doing, and he knew that she had every right to. But it still hurt. He clenched it tight in his fist, and could feel her pain emanating out from it, mixing with his. It made him shudder, his eyes instinctively finding her across the store.

"I’m not going home."

Maria laid her forehead against the glass of the door. Just one second more, and she would have been out – one step closer to being free from him. She closed her eyes against the tears of frustration. If she went back to him, she knew what she would be in for – more heartbreak, more pain, and most likely, his leaving again. It had taken years before she’d been able to get through a day without thinking of him, even more before it stopped hurting just to hear his name. Maria looked down at her finger, already feeling naked without her ring. She took a deep breath and returned to the booth, sitting across from him.

"What do you mean?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Michael still couldn’t face her. "That’s pretty much all I found out. A few leads which turned about to be nothing. Every time I thought I was on the verge of an answer, it was just a dead-end street."

"Michael… I’m sorry." She cocked her head, hoping that he would look up. "Why didn’t you tell anyone? You could have come home…"

"And be a failure, yet again?" He snapped, finally meeting her eyes. "Big surprise: Michael Guerin – failing at something again. I kept going because I honestly thought that I would find something – or someone – who could tell me how to get home. But I was wrong… like I always am. Michael Guerin – terminal fuck-up."

Maria winced at his words. "That’s not true, Michael. No one thinks that."

"Max does," he scoffed. "You do."

Maria shook her head. "Max doesn’t think that. As for me…" She smiled. "I just think that you are… blind. You choose not to see what you have. And maybe now you’ve realized that you’re the one who put the blinders on. I think you’ve been searching all this time for something that’s always been in front of you."

Michael chuckled. Maria was never one to beat around the bush with him – he had missed her candor.

"Do you want to come over?" She touched his hand lightly. "Talk or something… somewhere a little more private?"

"I… can’t." He replied regretfully. "Isabel’s coming, I really should go over there."

Maria nodded. "Yeah, you should – I should get going anyway." Sliding out of the booth, she picked her bag up from the floor. "Bye, Michael."

"Bye."

He watched her leave, then went up to pay his check.

**

Isabel opened the door, half-hoping to find a lost pizza delivery boy. But it was him, staring back at her with vacant eyes. She looked him up and down, as if something in his demeanor would explain his absence. Michael stood in front of her, obviously worn down by the years he’d spent on his own. Instead of his trademark defiant stance, he was slightly hunched over, almost like a propped-up rag doll. Everything about him was off – even his jacket seemed to swallow him up.

The anger was still there, though – Isabel could feel it coursing through her blood. Not quite as ferocious as Max had been the night before, but five years of imagining the most horrific fates had taken its toll. The stress and anxiety that had built up did not fade so quickly with a simple reunion.

She raised her hand and slapped him hard across his face. His head slammed to the side from the force and he didn’t make an effort to move it back. The look of pain that he wore wasn’t from physical discomfort, but rather from the complete and total understanding of all the heartache he’d caused her.

"Oh, Michael," Isabel cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "I’ve missed you so much."

Michael remained stiff in her embrace, not quite feeling that he deserved such affection. The slap came as little surprise, and he wished that she would have stopped there. He didn’t feel comfortable like this – with her being so open and uninhibited. Michael almost wished that she’d yell at him, like Max had. Or been snippy and cold, as Maria was initially. Isabel breathed in sharply, and he could tell that she was on the verge of tears. Because of him. Guilt tensed his body even more, pushing him away from her warmth.

Isabel pulled away, a look of confusion on her face. "Well, um, come in."


	6. Chapter 6

"He just seems so sad," Maria took another spoonful of ice cream. "I didn’t know what to do. Now, ‘Angry Michael,’ I can handle. ‘Bitter, pissed-off Michael’? I’ve had a lot of experience with him. But this? All I want to do is just hug him and hold him, but I can tell that’s the last thing that he wants."

Liz reached for the whipped cream canister and sprayed a small mountain on top of her sundae. "Did he say anything about the dreams?"

"Not really. Then again, I didn’t exactly approach it in the best of ways."

Giggling, Liz shook her head at her best friend. "You think?"

Maria rolled her eyes and threw a cherry at the brunette. "Shut up."

**

"So… nothing?" Max brought in three glasses of soda and placed them on the coffee table.

Isabel hadn’t left Michael’s side since he’d come over, even though it was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with the attention. Max sat in the chair across from them.

"Nothing." Michael stated flatly. "I thought I had something twice – but it was nothing. Once up near Buffalo, the other over in England."

"Wait – how did you get to England?" Isabel asked, shocked.

Michael smirked. "I learned how to play with computers. Funny how a little information and skill goes a long way."

"Is that where you’ve been most of the time? In England? In Europe?" Max asked.

"No." Michael shook his head. "Maybe a year or so. Did the wandering thing… any time I heard of a sighting, I tried to get there. But most of the people I met were like the ones at that convention in Roswell. If they weren’t complete idiots, they were convinced that we are vicious creatures hell-bent on taking over the universe."

Reaching for her drink, Isabel sighed. "There are a lot of stupid people out there. That’s why it’s better to have people who understand you." Max shot her a warning glance, but she ignored it. "Michael, if it’s been like that, why didn’t you come home? Or called. I would have been happy with a phone call, just to know that you were alright."

Michael shrugged his shoulders and looked down. "What would I have said, Isabel? That I screwed up again? I’m tired of being the fuck-up of the bunch. Why can’t you understand that?"

"Why can’t you understand that it’s about more than just you?" Max jumped to his feet.

"Max."

"Isabel – don’t "Max" me," he snapped at her. "You wanted to kill him, remember?"

Michael’s head whipped around to face Isabel, his eyes questioning her motives. Isabel looked at him, then glared at Max. "And you said to hear him out. That’s what I’m doing, hearing him out."

"Hearing him out about what? I’m not hearing much of anything. You’ve been doing most of the talking tonight." Max yelled back at her.

"What do you want me to do, Max? Have the three of us sit here silent all night?" She sat back into the couch. "At least *I’m* trying."

"Trying? Maybe *we* aren’t the ones who should be trying."

"You know what? I think I’ll just let you two finish this discussion on your own – I’m leaving." Michael stood up and walked to the door.

"Fine, just go." Max grumbled, not looking at Michael. "That’s what you do best."

Michael paused and glanced over his shoulder at them. Isabel could see the pained expression on his face, as if he was giving up on one of the last things he was holding onto. He shrugged his shoulders and continued out the door.

"Michael!" Isabel called after his retreating figure. "Dammit," she cried, covering her face with her hands.

**

Maria would have never heard the light rapping on the front door if she hadn’t been listening for it. But she had been waiting all night. She barreled down the staircase and opened the door, hand on hip.

"Things didn’t go so well with the Evanses?"

Michael just looked at her.

"C’mon, then." She turned and hopped up two steps. "Just – "

"Lock it behind me." Michael finished.

Maria smiled and ran back up to her apartment. Michael entered a few seconds later, and she noticed that he appeared to be even more haggard than before. Leaning against the doorframe, Michael surveyed her place. It was almost exactly how he would have pictured it – how he had pictured it – when he’d think about her and where she was. There was quite the eclectic mix of… whatever she had found and decided would be a perfect addition to her world. Strange colour combinations – 50s kitsch next to eastern icons – candles everywhere. Best of all, it smelled like Maria. She had made her home into a complete extension of herself.

Maria watched him look around, not moving, as if he were afraid to disrupt anything. "You want anything? Something to drink?"

"No, I’m fine." He dug his hands into his pockets. "Just kind of tired. It’s been a long night."

Smiling, she opened the door to her room and tugged him in. "Lay down. I’m going to get water, I’ll be right back." Michael walked past her and sat uncomfortably on her bed.

Maria washed the last of the dishes from the ice cream fest and poured herself a glass of water. She entered her room quietly, stopping in the middle of the doorway when she saw him asleep on her bed. He looked like a little boy in the middle of the pillows, with a thin blanket pulled over him. Maria set the water down on the nightstand and walked over, carefully unlacing his shoes and taking them off. Then she went to the closet to get some extra blankets and covered him up. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his cheek softly. Turning out the light, Maria grabbed a blanket and went to set herself up on the couch.

**

"MARIA!"

The blonde jolted awake, almost falling out off the couch. She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to figure out where she was and what she’d heard. The apartment was silent and the clock read 4:07. There wasn’t even a random car driving down the road to explain the explosive sound. Exhausted, Maria sank back down into the pillows and closed her eyes.

"MARIA!"

She jumped up and flew into the bedroom. Michael was curled up in the fetal position in the middle of her bed, eyes clenched tightly, shaking violently. Her fingers recoiled quickly when she touched his arm. His skin felt like it had been ravaged by some sort of fever. The sheets below him were soaked in sweat and hot tears were spilling down his cheeks. Maria quickly ran to the kitchen to get a wet cloth to cool him down, then sat beside him.

Michael, sensing that she was close, pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist. He was still entrapped in a dream-state, but his twitching was quelled slightly by her touch. Maria wiped the sweat and tears from his face, trying to maintain her composure. All of a sudden, she understood the fear in Lydia’s eyes. This was like nothing she’d ever seen him, or Max, or Isabel go through. He seemed unreachable, and she was afraid to let him stay in that horrid place, but didn’t know if waking him up would make it worse.

"Maria," Michael whimpered into her stomach. He was still crying, just not as forcefully as before. She stroked his head lovingly, her other hand massaging his upper arm.

"I’m here… I’m here." Maria kept repeating over and over, not knowing what else to do. Surprisingly, it seemed to help things. His body curled up around hers tightly, but the heartbeat that she could feel thumping against her hip had slowed to a regular rhythm. After half an hour, his body had cooled to a more normal temperature, and an hour later, he was sleeping peacefully.

Maria finally relaxed against the pillow she had placed between her back and the wall. Her fingers delicately caressed his face, and she took some comfort in the fact that Michael was in her arms again. She felt her eyes closing against her will again, but now that Michael had seemed to calm down, Maria finally let herself drift off as well. Hopefully, things would make more sense in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

Liz mindlessly flipped through the newspaper as she ate her cereal. Isabel emerged from the guest room, her legs sluggishly dragging her along. She walked over and grabbed the orange juice and a glass, then leaned against the counter opposite Liz.

"Morning," Liz said cheerfully.

"Mmm hmmm…" Isabel nodded. She’d barely been able to sleep all night, getting out of bed simply because she got tired of staring at walls.

"How did everything go last night? You guys weren’t here when I got home."

Isabel took a sip of juice and shook her head. "Not well. Michael stormed out – I tried to follow him, but I don’t really know where I’m going around here. Max and I ended up at some all-night diner, I think we got in around three."

"Oh."

Max padded out from their bedroom and stood next to Liz. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her head. She smiled in response, and leaned into him.

"I hope we didn’t wake you. I tried not to make much noise." He rubbed her back.

Liz folded up the newspaper and pulled away. "Nope. I was pretty much dead out as soon as I got home. I knew that I had to get up early – I’ve got a meeting with one of my students before class."

"Yeah, I should head out soon too. I wanted to go for a run before I had to leave." He drank some of Isabel’s juice.

"Oh, that’s right," Liz said. "Friday morning breakfasts at Maria’s - tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Can you bring her the envelope on the table? I forgot to take it to her last night."

Max nodded and stuck the envelope in the waistband of his shorts.. He turned to Isabel. "Will you be okay until I get home? You have the keys, right?"

Resting her head against her fist, Isabel nodded, eyes half-closed. "I’ll be here. Pretending to be awake." ‘Pretending not to worry,’ she thought to herself.

**

Michael rolled onto his back and yawned. There was something different about this morning – no headaches, no feeling like he’d been beaten the night before. He actually felt… well-rested. It had been a couple of years since he’d woken up without the immediate need to find something to take the edge off.

His legs were still wrapped around her body. He felt her hand still in his hair, gently cradling his head. Michael rubbed his eyes and opened them slowly. The canopy he was expecting above him wasn’t there. The blanket pulled over him didn’t have that tacky barnyard animal theme stitched into it. Everything even smelled different. Not bad, just different – yet familiar.

"You’re awake," Maria murmured down to him.

Her voice made Michael’s heart jump. He mentally ran through the night before: Got dinner. Went to Max’s. Isabel slapped him. They talked. Then they yelled. Then he left and walked straight back to Maria’s without thinking. She left him alone in her room and he closed his eyes for a minute, to relax. And now, it was morning and she was in bed with him.

"Yeah, I’m awake." Michael uncurled himself from her and stretched out. "Did I, um, fall asleep?"

"Pretty much right after you got here."

"Oh." He suddenly felt kind of embarrassed about being so rude. "Did you~"

"I slept on the couch."

"Oh." Michael thought about that for a moment. "How~"

"You called. I came." Maria arched her shoulders against the wall, trying to appease her tense muscles. "Do you mind if I move down? This is not the most comfortable position to be in for five hours."

"Of course." Michael inched over on the bed, giving her more room. "Sorry."

"Don’t be." Sliding down, Maria let out a little sigh of comfort. "Wow, that feels so much better." She turned her head and smiled at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, actually. I woke up feeling… okay."

"Good."

The room became silent again. Michael stared up at the ceiling, feeling foolish and relieved at the same time. He knew why the sense of foolishness was there, but he couldn’t figure out why he was so relaxed. He glanced at her for a second, then back up at the mobile that was hanging above the bed.

"I guess you want some kind of explanation."

Maria wasn’t sure if she wanted to know, not yet anyway. It was hard enough just getting through the night worrying about Michael - she hadn’t even begun to process it in her own mind. "You don’t have to tell me right now, if you don’t want to."

It was an easy out. She always gave him an easy out when she knew that he needed it. For as insufferable and annoyingly inquisitive as Maria could be, she never pushed him to talk or do things when he wasn’t ready. That was something else that he missed about having her in his life. He missed her knowing him so well.

Michael rolled over on his side and shrugged his shoulders. "The thing is – I don’t really know what’s going on when I sleep. Every morning, no matter what, I wake up feeling like I’ve been dragged down a highway by a speeding sixteen-wheeler. It’s only when I wake up with someone else and I see the look of horror on their face that I know it happened again."

"How long has it been going on?"

"I’m not sure. Maybe two and a half years."

"God, Michael." Maria touched his hand.

Michael rubbed his thumb against hers. "Don’t worry about me. I’ve made it this long in one piece, I’ll be fine." He tried to sound convincing.

"Maybe Isabel~"

"No. Maybe Isabel nothing." He snapped.

"But~"

"No." He stated again.

"You can’t expect me not to say anything."

"Oh, I know that you are incapable of keeping quiet about such things." Michael dropped her hand to the bed. "But I’m not getting them involved. They made it perfectly clear last night that they wished I’d never shown up."

Maria sat up and shook her head. "I don’t believe that. They’ve been concerned about you for so long. I mean, one of the reasons that Isabel moved back to Roswell was that she wanted to be there in case you came home. And Max – he feels guilty that he let you go on alone. He thinks about you every day." She watched his face soften as her words settled in. "You should go talk to them again."

"I don’t think that’s possible."

"Michael." She said, exasperated.

"Maria." He mocked her tone.

Lying back down, Maria grimaced in pain as her back hit the bed. Her head began to throb – the tension that had returned was affecting all of her body.

"How’s your back?" Michael asked, feeling responsible.

"Sore, but I’ll live."

Watching her, he wished that he could just run his hands down her body and make all the pain go away. Actually, he simply wanted to touch her again – and that seemed to be the most innocent way to do it. But he knew that it wouldn’t do any good, he couldn’t make it better. "You didn’t have to, you know."

Maria laughed and shook her head. "You’ll never get it, will you?"

"What?"

She closed her eyes. "Forget it."

"No – tell me." Michael insisted.

"You go talk to Isabel, and I’ll tell you." She heard him mumbling under his breath. "Hey – for everything you put me through last night, you at least owe me that." Maria punched him softly on the arm.

Michael started grumbling again, then covered his eyes with his hands. He sighed. "Just Isabel."

"Just Isabel." Maria acquiesced.

"No dream talk."

"No dream talk."

There was a very long pause – Maria wasn’t sure if she was able to convince him or not. But she knew that she couldn’t help him alone, and that as much as she wanted to know him, there were just some things that she would never be able to understand. The clock on the other side of the room ticked off the seconds of silence. Finally his hands fell to his sides. Reaching for her hand, Michael squeezed it – more to comfort himself than her.

"Ok."


	8. Chapter 8

"Don’t even think that you are coming up here all sweaty and smelly." Maria yelled as she heard the downstairs door slam. "I don’t want you stinking up my house."

Max laughed at her as he walked into the kitchen. "If it’s that bad – I’ll take a shower. Let me just get something to drink." He opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. Maria walked out from the bathroom and wrinkled her nose.

"Ugh. Now I have to open all the windows."

"Oh, c’mon." He sat on the table in the middle of the floor. "I only ran five miles. Anyway, you look exhausted. What’s up?"

"Long night," she responded, pushing a headband into her hair. "After the blow-out at your house, Michael came here." Maria walked over to the couch and plopped down. "What happened, anyway? He didn’t really tell me much."

Jumping off the table, Max joined her on the couch. "I don’t know. Things are just… well, not like I thought they would be when I saw him again. I guess I’m expecting the perfect explanation and he’s not giving it to me. And every second that I keep waiting, I feel myself getting more and more angry – I don’t know why."

Maria lay down across the couch and put her head in his lap. "He’s not well, Max."

"Michael’s always got something wrong."

"No." Her voice was firm, yet sad. "It’s – I’ve never seen him like this. He’s more defeated than ever before. And last night was, well, terrifying. I stayed up most of the night just watching over him." His fingers traced over her ear, tucking away errant flaxen strands. "Max… have you ever had really bad dreams?"

"What, like nightmares?" He asked.

"Worse than just nightmares. He doesn’t want you to know, but I think he knew I would tell you." She laughed softly. "Max, it was so scary. He was screaming, crying, all curled up like a child that had just lost everything he’d ever known in the blink of an eye. Honestly, I was more afraid of losing him than I was in the cave that night." Sniffing, Maria continued. "I didn’t know if I should wake him up – I didn’t know if that would make it worse. So, I just kind of sat there with him. That seemed to calm him down some. I thought maybe it was something that you and Isabel had gone through."

"No," Max whispered, shaking his head. "I’ve never had a dream like that, I don’t think that Is has either." An image of Michael, standing haggard before him flashed in his mind. What Maria said – it seemed to give some insight on why Michael had been so distant from them, why Max couldn’t get a read on his state of mind. He had tried – the first night that Michael came to him. As he grabbed Michael’s arm, Max tried to get in, make a connection. All he got was a dark, spiraling black hole. It didn’t seem to be anything then, but now with what Maria told him, Max wanted to understand the connection between Michael, that image, and his dreams.

"Don’t be so angry with him, Max." Maria sighed sleepily. "Please."

Max smiled and caressed her cheek. He could tell by her breathing that she was about to fall asleep. When he was sure that she had drifted off completely, Max carefully slipped off the couch and left.

**

Flipping on the TV, Isabel stretched out on the couch, enjoying the solitude. Liz had left for school, and Max wasn’t back from his run yet. She grabbed the remote and surfed through the numerous talk shows and soap operas. There was absolutely nothing about the mindless babble that could keep her awake, and she wasn’t completely sure why she was trying to stay up. She thought about calling Alex but the phone was all the way on the other side of the room. Try as she might to will it to come over, it was staying put.

Her eyelids felt heavier each time a commercial came on. Isabel had started to drift off to sleep when she heard the knock on the door. She tried to ignore it – hoping that Max would find his keys before she actually had to get up. More knocking. Grunting, she swung her legs over and made her way to the door.

"You couldn’t just open it ‘your own special way’? I’m sure no one would have noticed."

"Uh, I didn’t really think that would be appropriate." Michael’s poor attempt at a joke jerked Isabel out of her sleepy daze.

"Michael," she said incredulously.

He waited for her to slap him again, but she just cocked her head to the side and smiled. Before he could think, Michael reached out and hugged her, hesitantly at first, then held her firmly against him. She clung to him tightly, burying her face into his shoulder, letting her tears of relief soak his shirt. They stood in the doorway, him tenderly rocking her in his arms, murmuring against her temple.

"It’s all gone, Isabel. I’ve lost it all."

**

"I don’t understand. You can’t do anything? Not even melt things?" Isabel asked.

They had left the apartment before Max got home – Michael trying to avoid another awkward confrontation. Besides, he’d only agreed to talk to Isabel. Max was another issue altogether. Maria would have had to come up with something more substantial than a little tease to get him to talk to Max. Isabel and Michael walked to the park down the street, thinking that there would be few people around in the middle of the day.

"Nope. Not even that." Michael ran his fingers through his hair. "It all just slipped away gradually… I didn’t notice it at first. But then one day I forgot my keys, and figured that I could just ‘open the door.’ Nothing happened. A few months later, I tried making a connection with a… friend of mine. Without her knowing, of course. Again, nothing."

"Maybe we can try to figure it out. Together."

"Is," he squeezed her hand. "I don’t think there is anything we can do. For whatever reason, my powers have been taken away from me. Maybe it’s because I was separated from you guys for so long, maybe it’s because I did something really wrong – I don’t know. But it’s my punishment to accept. I’m not getting you involved."

Isabel stopped and pulled him back. "Michael – I don’t think that this is a punishment. Is that why you’ve been avoiding us? You think that you’ve been punished?"

"I don’t know."

She touched his cheek, making him look at her. "Something happened, Michael. Something that we need to figure out and fix."

"It doesn’t matter – we’re probably leaving soon." Michael turned away and started walking again.

"Please, stay for a few more days. At least until we can all sit down and talk about this." Isabel begged. He shot her a skeptical glance. "I promise, no more yelling, no more arguing. Just talking."

"I don’t know, Is."

"Just one day, then. For me. Michael, I haven’t seen you in five years, and you are threatening to disappear on me again. Please, give me one more day with you."

He exhaled slowly, then nodded without looking at her. "One more day. That’s all I can promise right now."

**

Michael walked into the room and fell back onto the bed, staring up. What was to be a simple trip to help Lydia settle her affairs had now turned into a forced introspection into his life. Most of him wanted to grab Lydia, get in a car and drive home without looking back. He tried to convince himself that the reason the rest of him wanted to stay was because of his promise to Isabel. All she was asking was to spend a little more time with him. He could do that, Michael figured. ‘Just hang out with Is, and avoid everyone else.’ That’s all he had to do.

"Where have you been?"

Michael sat up to find Lydia standing in the bathroom doorway. "Oh, I thought you would still be with the lawyers."

"You were with her, weren’t you?" She asked, more pained than angry.

"Who?" Lydia just stared at him. "Oh, Maria. Yes, and no. I ran into some… old friends. I’m sorry that I didn’t call."

"Friends," she sniffed.

"Yeah, friends." He repeated, confused.

"And I’m not good enough to meet your friends?"

"Lydia, don’t."

"You never tell me anything about your life, well, from before we met. Then we come here – I have to pretty much drag you – and all of a sudden there are all these ‘old friends’ here, and the infamous Maria that you refuse to tell me about." The agonizing pain of betrayal was naked on her face. "What is it about me that you feel the need to hide things? What have I done to make you feel like you can’t talk to me, share with me?"

"It’s not you," Michael pleaded. "It’s just a part of my life that I’ve been trying to forget. Only, right now it doesn’t want to be forgotten."

" Why do you have to forget it? What could have possibly been so bad that you needed to run away?" She asked, sitting on the bed next to him.

"I can’t tell you." He dropped his head.

"Fine." Lydia stood up angrily and walked over to the closet, dragging her suitcase out. "I have to meet with the lawyers tomorrow morning, and then I’m going home. I want you to come with me. I want to get out of here, and take you home and then we can go on from there."

"But~"

"You said that you want to forget about your past. The best way I can see you doing that is leaving as soon as possible, and never coming back." She started to toss some clothes into the bag. "You leave with me, and I won’t ask any questions about this week, and the people you don’t want me to meet. I won’t ask about Maria, even when you call out to her in your sleep. I won’t ask about your dreams, I won’t ask about your drawings, I won’t ask about the box that you are so protective of." Lydia crossed the room and grabbed some things from the dresser. "Before we left, you said that I was the one you wanted to spend your life with. I love you, Michael, you know that. But you have to give me something here. Leave with me, and don’t look back."

Michael watched her pack, her gaze never venturing towards him. He lay back down on the bed and covered his eyes with his palms, trying to decide what to do.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey Maria." Isabel stood behind her, offering a tentative smile.

"Isabel." Maria said coldly over her shoulder as she locked the door. "How was your trip?"

"It was good. A little turbulence, but all in all, okay."

"Uh huh." Maria turned around and buttoned her coat. "I have to go pick some things up. I guess I’ll see you around." She dug her hands in her pockets and started to walk away.

Isabel took a deep breath and quickly ambled to catch up with her. "Michael came to talk to me."

"Yeah." Maria uttered unemotionally – not quite a question, not quite anything.

"He told me you convinced him to."

"Well," Maria said, looking straight ahead. "I thought that you could help him – you’re the ones with the ‘connection,’ right? I sure as hell can’t do anything for him."

Isabel grimaced. With Maria, there was no such thing as water under the bridge. "He went to you."

"He had nowhere else to go." Maria shot back.

"You can’t believe that," Isabel shook her head.

"Listen, I don’t know what to believe anymore. I haven’t known what to believe since the day that Liz got shot."

"Maria."

Stopping, Maria turned to really look at Isabel for the first time. "Isabel, I’m really tired. I have spent this entire day analyzing every minute detail since he came into my store, and then some. I can’t do it again. Every time that I let him in and start getting all involved, something comes along to remind me that I don’t belong in his life. Whether it’s you, or his quest, or whatever – the message is loud and clear – I’m not one of you." She smiled bitterly. "And you know what? That’s okay. I can deal with that – I have to. It’s a lesson ten years in the learning, but I think I’ve finally come to accept it. Now, I’m going to the store so that I can get something to make for dinner. And I’m going alone."

**

The doorbell rang as Maria was putting the last of the pots in the sink. She dried her hands off on a towel and slowly started down the stairs, with as much anticipation as a convict walking death row.

"You." She stated apathetically.

"Yeah, me." Michael said, baffled by her greeting. This morning she’d been friendly and warm. Now she was back to being cold and distant.

"Mmm Hmmm…" Maria headed back up the stairs.

Michael closed the door and followed, finding her straightening up the kitchen. "So, um…"

Maria looked up for a second as she separated small piles of papers and things on the center table. "Yeah."

"I’m leaving tomorrow."

Dropping her head, she laughed to herself sardonically. "Of course you are." She placed everything into one large pile and picked it up to move over to the counter. Her shaking hands betrayed her coolness, her fingers couldn’t hold onto everything and it all fell. Michael watched as papers, trinkets and coloured pieces of wood flew across the tile.

Maria dropped to her knees, trying to gather everything back together. She stopped when she came to an oddly shaped piece of wood. Her forefinger traced over it gently, drawing Michael’s attention. He realized what had stilled her so. The napkin holder. He stepped forward to help her clean up.

"NO!" She yelled, her head still down.

"Maybe I can… do something." He said weakly.

"You’ve already done enough."

"Maybe Max can fix it."

Maria looked up at him, tears threatening to spill over. "Max can’t fix this one." She reached for some other stray pieces of Michael’s gift and gathered them in her arms, standing up.

"Is it completely~"

"Broken," she finished. "It’s completely broken."

"I’m~"

"Why did you come here?" Maria asked Michael, the third time he’d been asked that question since he’d gotten into town.

"I told you… Lydia~" He tried to explain.

"No." She shook her head. "Here. To me. Why did you come to see me tonight? Why didn’t you just leave?"

Michael leaned back against the sink. "I… Well…" He paused, thoughts swirling in his head. "I wanted to say goodbye."

"You didn’t last time."

"I know. I didn’t want it to be like that." He edged closer towards her, but she moved away. "And you probably won’t believe me – but I’ve felt horrible about it ever since. I never seem to do the right thing. I always screw it up. I’m not perfect."

Smoothing her hair down, Maria looked back up at him. "I never wanted you to be perfect. I liked you the way you were. I like things that are…" Her gaze dropped to the table, and the assorted pieces of wood and spring. "Broken." The word came out in a sob, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Maria," Michael whispered, walking over to her.

"No! No!" She screamed at him. "It’s not fair. You come in and just rip me apart in three days. It’s like everything that I went through, all the walls I built back up meant nothing. And now you are leaving again. And I’m going to worry about you all over again. I’m going to worry if you are okay, how you are sleeping, if you are still calling out for me. And I’m going to sit up nights wondering why it’s *me* that you are calling out for. And I’m going to wonder if you miss me. And I hate it." Her burning eyes glared at him. "I hate it. I hate that I care about you. I hate that I worry about you. I hate that after all this time I still love you. I hate it." Angry tears flowed steadily down her cheeks. It was like five years of anguish and pain ripped through her at breakneck speed. Her entire body was shaking, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

"I know." Michael stood a few inches from her now, wanting to touch her, hold her – but fearing her reaction. "Maria…"

Covering her face with her hands, the blonde shook her head. "No, no, no, no, no," she repeated almost inaudibly under her wrenching sobs. This was the last thing she wanted – to let him see her cry. But as he approached, Maria didn’t move, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. Michael stroked her hair, taking in all her anger and pain. After a few minutes, a new calm swept over them both.

Maria stepped away and wiped her eyes. "Michael?"

"Yeah?" He touched her cheek.

"Please leave."


	10. Chapter 10

Maria paused at each step as she walked up to Max and Liz’s apartment. She had a pretty good idea of the explosion that was going to happen inside when she told them that Michael was taking off again. Not only that, but the fact that she sat on the information for almost ten hours was not going to go over well. She really didn’t know why she didn’t call them earlier. After Michael left, she sat on the couch staring off into space. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to see their faces of sympathy, didn’t want to be reminded that, while this time she didn’t have him, that he left her again. She didn’t want to face the fact that he’d broken through to her heart in a way that she’d never been able to do with him.

Plus, Maria knew that as soon as she told them – there would be a manhunt to drag him back and make him talk. ‘Michael *wants* to leave – and who are we to keep him here?’ She thought. ‘If he wants to go – waltz out of our lives without a second thought, well, I’m not going to throw myself at his feet and beg him to stay, no Siree Bob." Giggling, Maria pictured her mother saying that – it was one of her favorite phrases. Her mother – when Maria’s father left, she begged him to stay and look what it got her. Nothing. Just a life of trying to move on while still being slightly hung up on the boy she fell in love with at sixteen.

"And I am *not* doing that," Maria said aloud, her hand poised at the door. "I’m not going to live the rest of my life hung up on Michael Guerin." Letting loose a furious series of rapid-fire knocks, she stood back and waited for an answer.

A few minutes later, Liz appeared at the door sleepy-eyed. "Maria," she mumbled, surprised. "What time is it?"

The blonde pushed past her and stormed into the apartment. "About 8:30, I think. Where are Max and Isabel? Are they up?"

"Uh," Liz closed the door.

"Who is it?" Max stumbled out with Isabel not far behind. They squinted at the blatantly incensed woman in the middle of the living room.

"He’s leaving," Maria announced, hands on hips.

Liz padded over to her. "Who’s leaving?"

"Michael." Max said, coming out of his stupor.

"No." Isabel shook her head. "He’s not. He just told me yesterday that he would stay longer. We were going to talk."

"Surprise, surprise," Maria bitterly sniped. "This is *Michael* we’re talking about. Did you really think he’d stick around, Isabel? Even for you?"

Isabel opened her mouth to respond but Max cut her off. "Stop it." He shot Maria a warning glance. "When did he say he was leaving?"

"Last night. He came by around ten."

"TEN O’CLOCK?" Isabel shouted. "You knew that he was leaving last night, and you didn’t say a word? What the hell is wrong with you, Maria?"

"HEY!" Max yelled. "I said knock it off – both of you. There’s a chance that he’s still here. Let’s just get ourselves together and look for him. Do you know where he’s staying?" Maria shook her head. "Is?"

"Some Bed and Breakfast – that’s all I know."

"It’s probably the one over by Main." Liz spoke. "Do you think he’s still there?"

"I don’t know," Max furrowed his eyebrows. "But it’s the best chance we’ve got. After that – we can just drive around and look for him. We’ll take two cars – Liz, you go with Maria. Is and I will take our car."

"He’s probably gone by now." Isabel slumped into a chair.

"We don’t know that," Max tried to comfort her, rubbing her shoulders. "Let’s just see what we can find out. Meet back at the diner on Bailey at ten o’clock?"

"Fine." Maria grunted.

"Let’s go," Liz grabbed her shoes and Maria and pulled her down the steps.

**

"Okay, what is *with* you, Maria?" Liz asked after ten minutes of silence. "First you are upset, then angry, then fine with everything, and now you are being…" she paused.

"What? What am I being?"

"A total bitch." Liz said quietly.

"*I’m* the bitch? *I’m* the bitch?" Maria spat out. "With the ice princess here, I don’t think that I’m any competition."

"Maria… I’m not…" Liz closed her eyes, frustrated. "I’m just worried about you. I haven’t seen you this worked up since before you left Roswell. Why didn’t you tell us last night? I just don’t understand."

Maria looked at her best friend, then back at the road. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, then slowly let her fingers relax. "Liz… I don’t know. When he said he was leaving… I just. I can’t explain – I thought I was over it, I really did. His leaving, his being here… him in general. But I’m not. He walked out and I couldn’t move. I stood still in the kitchen for a while, and then I just sat on the couch for hours. I haven’t even slept. Two nights now my mind is on nothing but him. I thought," she laughed painfully. "I was stupid enough to think that he needed me. I was stupid enough to think that there was a reason he came to me that night. But I was wrong. Again."

Liz reached out to touch Maria’s arm. "Michael *does* need you. But I think he’s afraid to admit that to himself. You know him… he’s not exactly the type to have a big talk about his feelings. But he’s let you see him in ways that no one else has. Maria… you know to Michael that means more than anything he could ever say."

Maria pulled the car into the driveway of the Bed and Breakfast. Looking down, she gave a slight nod, then got out of the car.

**

While Isabel had gone into the diner to see if Maria and Liz had shown up, Max waited outside. Leaning against the car, he tried to think of any other places that they should hit. A child’s cry from the store on the right attracted his attention. As he looked over, Max saw the elusive one coming out of the convenience store.

"Michael!" Max called to him, walking across the parking lot.

Michael looked up, then shook his head. Lydia was coming by soon and they were going back home. He just wanted to get out without one more heated confrontation. "I don’t want to talk, Max."

"I don’t really care what you want right now."

"And you ever did?" Michael sniped back.

"Do you *ever* think about the consequences of your actions? Have you even given one thought about what this is going to do to Maria?" Max cornered him against the side wall.

"Maria? Why are you so concerned with Maria all of a sudden?" Michael asked, irritated.

"I told you, she’s my friend. I remember what it was like last time you left – she didn’t take it well. Besides, it’s not just Maria. Isabel keeps thinking that you two are going to have this wonderful talk and the world will be right again. You were going to leave without even saying good-bye to her? What’s happened to you, Michael? Who is this person that you’ve become?" Max asked, disgusted.

Michael glared at him, willing his hands to stay at his sides. "Just turn around and walk away, Max. Forget you saw me."

"Forget. Walk away. Ah, yes, the Michael way."

Michael’s grasp on his self-control was weakening. He shoved Max away from him and started off to the road. Max grabbed his wrist and forcibly stopped him. An image flashed in Michael’s mind, his whole body shuddering both from the unexpected vision and the realization of what he was just shown.

"You’re not her friend." Michael whipped around.

"What?" Max asked, getting fed up.

"Maria. She’s more than just your friend."

"You don’t know what you are talking about, Michael." Max stared him down.

"You’ve slept with her." He stated matter-of-factly.

"You don’t know what you are talking about, Michael." Max repeated, almost condescending.

Michael smirked, shaking his head. "Now I get it. The anger, the ‘worry’ about hurting Maria. You’ve got Liz, and all you’ve been concerned with is Maria." His eyes narrowed. "So, tell me. Did you wait a whole month after you got back? Six? Or did the two of you just go at it as soon as you walked in the door? And what about Liz? Is she happy that you are getting a piece on the side?"

Slamming Michael against the wall much harder this time, Max held his arm against Michael’s chest. "Listen to me. I’m sick of your self-pitying bullshit. Things changed while you were gone and you don’t even know the first thing about what happened. You haven’t given a damn about any of us for years, and now you are here, angry about what was done in your absence? Fuck you, Michael."

It was difficult to breathe with Max’s arm crushing against him. Michael finally pushed him away. He brushed himself off and looked past Max. An evil sparkle lit up his eyes. "Does Liz know?"

"Does Liz know what?" A female voice came from behind Max. They both turned to see Liz, quite alarmed, approaching them.

Michael’s eyes darted from Max to Liz and back again. Max turned to Michael again, his own both begging him to keep his secret and daring him to tell. There were no words spoken, no obvious facial expressions explaining what was going on. The two former friends stood perfectly still in a twisted battle of wills.

"Does Liz know what?" She repeated.

Breaking his gaze, Michael dug his hands into his pocket. "That I’m going home."

"You can’t just go, Michael," Isabel stormed across over to them. She had seen Liz and Maria making their way towards the store and decided to follow them. Then she saw what had attracted their attention.

"Look, you all knew that I wasn’t staying." Michael grunted, not looking directly at any of them.

Isabel stepped closer to him. "What happened to ‘no more running’?" She touched his arm gently. "We have things we need to discuss."

Shaking his head, he backed away from her. "I have a new life now – I can’t get pulled back into this."

"Pulled back? Michael, this is who you *are.*" Max ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated by everything. At this point, he didn’t even know if Michael *should* stay. His presence seemed to do nothing but hurt people. But after everything, Isabel still wanted - needed - to be with him. So, for his sister, Max was trying to keep Michael here.

Michael met his eyes again, this time not in anger. "Not anymore, Maxwell."

"Michael?" Lydia stood a few feet away from the group, ringing her hands nervously. She eyed all the people around him intently, trying to discern exactly who they were to him. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she motioned toward the car. "Everything is all set. We can… go."

Michael stood straight and tried to smile at Lydia. She was here, finally. He just needed to walk over, get in the car and drive away. Then he could deal with her questions without four pairs of eyes staring him down. Lydia raised her eyebrows at him – in expectation of something more. Michael winced, knowing exactly what she wanted. But he couldn’t do that – he was trying to get away from Max, Isabel, Liz and Maria – the last thing he was going to do was introduce her to all of them. Giving Isabel an apologetic smile, he turned to Max and nodded. "Well, I guess this is it. Be seeing you, I guess." He walked over to Lydia, passing between Liz and Maria, not acknowledging either one of them. Taking the keys from his girlfriend, Michael opened the driver’s side door and started to get in.

*

‘This is too much.’ Isabel clenched her hands in her hair, and watched Michael leave her. Again. And no one else was doing anything. Max stood there, not even glancing in the direction of the small green car. Liz was staring at Max, and Maria looked hopelessly after Michael, pained confusion on her face. Deciding to take things into her own hands, Isabel stomped over to him as he was getting in and held the door open. "What about your dreams? You can’t leave before we figure out what they mean."

Michael stopped immediately and glared at Maria. Lydia, on the other side of the car, shot her an equally death-inducing look. Maria jumped back in surprise and shrugged her shoulders. "What? I didn’t tell her."

"I told her." Max turned to face Michael and Isabel.

Michael smirked, leaning across the car. "Always butting in where it doesn’t concern you."

Exhausted, Max crossed over and stood behind Isabel. He placed his hands on his sister’s shoulders and cocked his head at Michael. "When are you finally going to accept that it concerns all of us?"

"Michael," Lydia asked wearily, "What are they talking about?"

This was it. His proverbial moment of truth. Michael bit his lip and looked at Lydia. The woman he’d spent the last year or so of his life with – who promised that they could go back to that life, no questions asked. Michael had to admit that it was a virtually empty life – but that was what he’d been looking for, right? A life of minimal stress where his main looming problem was having enough money to pay the rent. He turned and furrowed his eyebrows at Isabel and Max. His family – or what was at one time. Isabel’s eyes softened, and tears appeared to be forming at the corners. ‘Family.’ The word echoed in his head. Even Max – Max, his best friend, his brother of sorts – even Max who had betrayed him in one of the worst ways, he was still Michael’s family. Hanging his head, he walked around the car and took Lydia’s face in his hands.

"I have to stay."

"But…" She whimpered, catching her breath.

"I’m sorry. I… I know it doesn’t seem like I am, but… I never meant," Michael pressed his forehead against hers. "I have to stay – there are things that I’ve been running from for so long, and I need to deal with them. And I need to do it now."

"I can stay with you. I can…" Lydia shook her head, eyes fixed on his lips.

"I’m sorry." He kissed her head and pulled away. "I can’t drag you into this."

"But… I just want to be with you."

Opening the door, Michael grabbed a black duffel bag from the back seat. Closing the door, he put it on the top of the car to block Isabel and Max from his vision. Lifting Lydia’s chin with his finger, Michael kissed her, softly, passionately, yet with the knowledge that it would be the last time he would see her. She knew he wouldn’t be back – not to her, anyway. Michael kissed her cheek and leaned into her ear, whispering, "Good bye."

Slinging the bag over his back, he walked over to Maria who hadn’t lost her look of disbelief and longing. She didn’t know if she should smile, cry or just keep staring at him blankly as he approached. Michael stopped short in front of her. "I don’t want to talk to you. Ever again." He growled, low enough for only her to hear.

Maria stood still, stunned. Max walked over to her and placed his arm around her waist. "He knows," he whispered against her temple. Her body stiffened against his, watching Michael take Isabel by the hand and dragging her back to Max’s car.

Neither of them felt the weight of Liz’s stare.

*

After dropping Max off at the apartment, Liz drove to Maria’s place. She tried to joke that it would probably take them hours to get back since neither Michael nor Isabel knew their way around town very well. Max offered a weak smile, but Maria didn’t even look in her direction. She’d sat silently staring out the car window the entire ride.

When they got back, Maria let Liz unlock the door and followed her up into the apartment. She walked straight into her bedroom and spread out in the middle of the bed, studying the ceiling. Liz leaned against the doorframe and watched her.

"I’m so tired."

"I can imagine – you’ve barely slept in two days."

Maria sighed, exhausted and frustrated. "No, I’m tired of this, Liz. This push and pull. This drama. All these secrets." She paused, thinking about the past ten years of her life had become an overlapping web of secrets and lies. "I just want a normal life. With normal problems and normal relationships."

"What are you saying?" Liz asked, apprehensive about the answer.

"Maybe Michael was right all along. Just walk away and don’t look back."

The brunette crossed her arms, trying to catch the eye of her best friend who still refused to look at her. "You want to leave?"

"I’ve been thinking about it." Maria nodded.

"But Maria…" Liz said softly, almost whining. "I’d miss you too much."

‘Just *once* can it be about me?’ Maria thought angrily. She wrapped her arms around her head, and pushed herself back into the pillows. It wasn’t that her friendship with Liz wasn’t important to her, but lately Maria had felt like the phrase "wacky sidekick" had been taken much too seriously. The ‘sidekick’ part, specifically. Liz got shot, Maria got pulled into the lives of the alien trio, got her heart smashed into a thousand pieces by one of them, and just as she was getting her life together – Max dragged her across the country, so he could be ‘closer to Liz.’ At the time, a break from New Mexico and everything Roswell seemed like a good idea. But it really didn’t change anything. Her life still revolved around Liz and Max – just now the store was a slight distraction. Roswell was no longer home, and this town certainly wasn’t home. Part of Maria just wanted to run away and start all over away from the people she cared about. Basically, do what Michael did. If only they’d let her.

"I can’t live my life to make you happy, Liz." Maria spat out, feeling guilty as she saw the look on her best friend’s face. But there was more to her words than she knew Liz realized. More than she wanted Liz to know – right now, possibly ever. Quickly changing the subject, Maria yawned and apologized. "I’m sorry, I’m just in a horrific mood and everything has been getting to me. You’re right – I think I just need some sleep."

*~*~*

 

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Max replied, thoroughly annoyed at the attitude Michael had been maintaining since he’d gotten into the house. He immediately went and sat in a chair in the corner of the room, his face frozen in an irate scowl. Isabel sat on the couch off to the side, watching his every movement with worried motherly overtones. Still struggling with the desire to throw Michael out of the house, Max leaned against the wall and closed his eyes in exasperation.

"Well, what do you want to know? Now that I’m here and have sufficiently fucked up my relationship with Lydia – the two of you better have something to talk about." Michael snapped.

"Us?" Max asked, stepping forward.

Reading her brother’s emotions, Isabel moved between them, sitting on the coffee table in front of Michael. She reached out and tried to take his hands. "Michael, I guess we just want to know what’s really going on. You told me that you don’t have any more powers."

"Yup, that’s right. So, I’m not one of you anymore." He pulled his hand away. "I’m just a regular ol’ human."

"What about the dreams?" She asked tenderly.

"What about them?" Michael replied, looking off towards the door.

Turning around, Max walked into the kitchen and started to rustle through the cabinets. "Look, why did you stay if you’re only going to be difficult?" He called into the other room.

"I thought you made it pretty clear that I didn’t have a choice in the matter."

"Please – will the two of you just stop? This isn’t helping anything." Isabel got up and started to pace back and forth. She wanted to help Michael, but it was getting to the point that nothing was breaking into the steel bubble that he’d created around himself. Max was trying, she knew that, but he was letting Michael press all his buttons. There was some kind of energy shift between them – but Isabel couldn’t quite determine what the cause was. Running her fingers through her hair, she looked back at Michael. "So, let’s get this straight – nothing at all?"

"Pretty much." He stated blankly.

"Pretty much?" Isabel’s eyebrows were raised in surprise.

"A couple of things, but I’m sure that they were just flukes." Michael shrugged, then started to pick at a hole in his jeans. "A feeling here, a vision there."

Maybe this was it, Isabel tried not to smile. She returned to the couch and rested her chin on her hand. "Feeling?"

"When Maria gave me back the ring…" Michael paused, twisting one of his own rings around his finger.

Hearing Michael’s words, Max walked back into the living room. "She gave you back the ring?" Max asked quietly, sympathetic without being patronizing. Maria knew how important that ring was to Michael, and if she returned it, it was for a reason. It was to prove something.

"Yeah…" Michael nodded, meeting Max’s eyes. "I could feel so much misery. But more than that – like disappointment and just… pain A lot of pain. And it wasn’t from her. It was from it." He winced at the memory of her walking away from him in the diner, and of the emotions that emanated from the ring in his hand. It was if in that one moment he felt everything that she’d gone through in the past five years. Well, almost everything. Michael looked over at the young man who was once his closest friend. "Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I felt it, then it was gone."

Isabel could sense Michael retreating into his bubble. She tried to get his mind off Maria. "You said a vision?"

"It was brief – I couldn’t describe it." Michael lied.

"But you know it was real?" Isabel nodded her head encouragingly. "Like, it really happened?"

Max’s eyes immediately darted over to read Michael’s reaction. Sitting back further in the chair, Michael stared back at him, becoming fully aware of how protective Max was of his secret. The image of them naked in bed, sharing tender kisses and soft caresses – the same image that he had just told Isabel he couldn’t describe – was etched in his brain. What got to him more than the fact they’d slept together was that Michael knew it wasn’t just sex. Underlying emotions were usually entangled in visions, and this one was no exception. Contradictory thoughts assaulted him. On one hand, he was somewhat relieved to know that Max wasn’t simply using her for sex, yet on the other, it killed him that they had such an emotional attachment to each other. There was some kind of connection between Max and Maria, Michael couldn’t deny that. And as hurt as he was, he knew that he really didn’t have the right to be so furious with them.

"Yeah, it happened."

**

Liz busied herself by cleaning the apartment while Maria slept. First she checked on Lucy downstairs, making sure the girl could take care of the store on her own for the day. Then she came back up and started straightening up – dusting, sweeping, finishing the dishes. The place was relatively clean but disheveled, which was understandable. Maria hadn’t been herself lately, and it was Liz who compulsively organized things when she was stressed.

After the kitchen, Liz began dusting the shelves. Maria had quite the collection of photographs – mostly of Alex, Liz and Max, a few of her mom. Snapshots of her life in Roswell. Liz chuckled as she came upon one of her favorites – Alex and the girls in the Crashdown. In her own copy of the picture, both Alex and Maria’s heads had mysteriously been changed into Max. Not in this version, though, although he was in many others.

In fact, Max, too, had quite the collection of Maria photos. They had taken a photography class together one semester and sometimes it seemed as if they were decidedly unaware of any other potential subject. One day Liz surprised Max in the photo lab, and was shocked to see the new project he was working on. There was a plethora of shots of Maria… they were so intimate – too intimate for Liz’s tastes. Not that there was anything risqué; of any sort – they just implied a kind of knowledge reserved for… lovers.

‘But they weren’t lovers,’ Liz reminded herself, ‘They were just friends.’ She picked up a picture she’d taken of Max and Maria one day when they all went on a picnic. His arm was slung around her shoulder, and she was leaning back into him comfortably. In that picture, she looked so peaceful and content – there was no evidence of the storm that had been tormenting her for over a year. A fleeting question as to *why* Maria looked that content flew through Liz’s mind, quickly to be dismissed. She had been thankful that Max had somehow broken through to her best friend. For a few years, Maria was unreachable to most. Even with his good intentions, Alex could barely make a scratch in her protective bubble. And it was almost as if she resented Liz for Max’s return – although he didn’t want to have any kind of romantic relationship. Michael’s departure had more of an effect on her than anyone could understand, than Maria, herself, could accept.

Strangely enough, tensions eased when Max decided to follow Liz to the east coast. Well, tension between Liz and Maria, that is. At the time, Liz was finishing up her last year at UNM, living rather contentedly with her boyfriend and was quite appalled when Max climbed into her window that summer night. Years of distance and all of a sudden he decreed that they could finally be together? His presumptuousness infuriated Liz and pushed her away from him even further.

Liz curled up on the couch and remembered that night. She basically threw him out, afraid of what would happen if she didn’t. So, she sat alone in her house, trembling violently. There was no way she could talk to Brian about it, and Alex was out playing at some bar. She got in her car and drove to the person she needed most. Maria opened the door to find her friend standing before her with red-rimmed eyes. "Czechoslovakian?" she asked sympathetically. Liz nodded, and Maria took her into her arms, letting her cry all night.

There was a slight noise from the back of the apartment, and Liz got up to see if Maria was awake yet. ‘Lord know she deserves the rest,’ the brunette thought. She peeked into the room to see her friend roll over and pull the blanket around her sleepily. Her thoughts returned to that night, as Maria comforted her – confused and bewildered. It was the first time that Liz contemplated their respective situations, wondering who had it worse. Liz, who saw the boy she loved everyday but couldn’t be with him, or Maria, whose love left her, never to be seen again. That’s when much of Liz’s jealousy subsided – when she started to understand the connection between Max and Maria. They both loved and missed Michael so much that they clung to the one person that reminded them of him – each other.

Liz took one last look at Maria, and backed out of the room, letting her sleep.

*~*~*

It was already dark by the time Liz and Maria made their way back to the other apartment. Max and Isabel were sitting in the small dining room, picking through plates of take-out Chinese food. Liz threw her jacket on a chair and joined them. "How did everything go?" She asked, rubbing Max’s thigh under the table. "Everything seems to be in one piece."

Max smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "It went okay. But we keep going around in circles."

Digging her hands into her coat pockets, Maria dropped her guard down a bit. "Where’s Michael?" She directed her question towards Isabel in an attempt to keep the tension lower than it was before.

"He’s outside in the back." Isabel responded, her tone reflecting a similar desire to diffuse the anger between them. Maria nodded, then started towards the glass door that led to the back porch.

"Maria…" Max called to her as he heard the door slide open. "I don’t know if…"

"What can I say?" She cut him off, smirking. "I’m a glutton for punishment." Closing the door behind her, she looked out into the small yard, finally noticing him at the bottom of the stairs. She went down and sat next to him.

Michael took a deep breath as he felt her arm brush against his. ‘What difference a day makes,’ he thought to himself. Yesterday he was looking for excuses to touch her, and now he stiffened at the most minimal physical contact between them. All his realizations from earlier were promptly forgotten now that she was here – all he could picture was her… with him. Michael stood up and took a step away.

Maria grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "Stay."

"I don’t have to listen to this."

"You are angry with me ~ and you have no right to be."

"You had sex with MAX!" He spat out through gritted teeth.

"That was my decision, Michael." Maria sighed. "You left *me* if I remember correctly."

"So, you slept with him because of me." He snapped, moving off the stairs. "That’s good. That’s really good."

Maria shook her head, holding it in her hands. "No. I slept with him because of *me.*" She looked up at him, standing in front of her – trying to mask his hurt with fury. Furrowing her brow, she ventured to continue. "You don’t know what it was like, Michael. I missed you *so* much. And I hated myself for it. But the pain didn’t stop – not after a few days, it didn’t even lessen after a few weeks. I just shut down. After a while, all I did was go to class and come home. I barely hung out with Alex or Liz. And then Max started, like, being around all the time. I think he felt guilty."

"So, it was a guilt thing."

"Jesus Christ, no. It wasn’t a guilt thing, or a lust thing, or even a ‘get back at Michael’ thing." Maria almost laughed at his attacks. At least he was talking to her – and there was a comfort level in their arguments. It was when the bickering ended that she would start to worry. The blonde leaned her elbows against the step behind her. "I think he felt guilty that he came back, and you didn’t. I think he felt guilty when he saw what a mess I was. Anyway… we did stupid mindless stuff like rent videos and go to bad diners. A whole bunch of months went by, and all of a sudden it was a year. A year without you." The last few words came out as a whisper, and Maria bit down on her lip to keep from letting him know how much it still hurt. She was still chastising herself for falling apart in front of him the night before, and was determined to keep it all together from now on. "One night Liz and Alex dragged us to this stupid party where Alex’s band was playing. It was so not what I needed. Max and I just hung out in a corner and talked. About you and Liz, mostly. And about us. Not ‘us’ ~ but each of us – and how we felt so alone and separate from the people in our lives. It was really nice to have someone who understood."

Michael sat back down, a couple of steps below her. That longing to be close was returning, although he was fighting it with every ounce of strength he had left. He leaned back against the wooden railing, eyes fixed straight ahead – not quite able to really look at her yet.

Taking a deep breath, Maria played with her rings nervously. "I honestly don’t remember how it started, or how we got back to his room. But I remember making the conscious decision to… be with him."

"But why Max, Maria? Out of all people – why him?" Michael asked, the words burning his throat.

"Who else, Michael? Who else could understand what I was going through? Who else had lost one of the dearest people to them? Who else was full of as much regret, and worry as I was? Who else knew what was going on in my head when I would stare at your paintings for hours?" A few unwanted tears slipped down her cheeks. "I didn’t plan it, or even consider it until that night. But somehow, at a time when it hurt so much that I could barely breathe, somehow it helped."

"I just… I don’t know if I can forgive you."

"Oh, I’m not looking for your forgiveness. And I’m not apologizing for anything I’ve done, either." Michael whipped his head at her in surprise. That was not the reaction he was expecting. "I’m not saying that to be spiteful in any way. I just wanted to explain."

"If you felt the need to explain, then you must feel some guilt about it."

"No… it’s not…" Maria tried to get a grasp on what she wanted to say. A new thought popped into her head. "Michael, why didn’t you tell me about the ring?"

"You’re changing the subject. This isn’t about me."

"We can go back – I want to know. That day in my store – why didn’t you tell me?"

"I… I don’t know." He got back up and paced on the grass.

"I knew about it, you know."

"What?" Michael stopped mid-step.

Maria looked at him and half-smiled. "I knew about the ring."

"But, you said…" His hands flailed at his sides.

She raised her eyebrows mischievously. "I didn’t say anything. I just asked you if there was something I should know, if you remember correctly."

"So, Max *did* tell you." He asked, accusingly.

"No. That night… I saw you give it to him." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Maria sighed. "Do you honestly think that I would wear the same thing every day for five years just because Max gave it to me?"

"It was a birthday present." Michael shrugged.

"You *know* me. I’m a flake. I lose things. And I rarely wear the same thing all the time." Maria giggled softly at the hint of a smile she was able to bring forth from him. "It’s the one thing from you that I could have with me no matter where I was. But you still didn’t answer my question. Why didn’t you tell me it was from you?"

Scratching the back of his head, Michael stared down at the ground. "You thought it was from Max. I figured that it’d probably be better to let you think that rather than make things awkward all around."

"See, we all keep secrets for our own reasons. It’s the same thing."

"Oh no, you slept with my best friend." He scoffed. "I think that’s a bit different than not telling you about a ring."

"I’m not stupid, Michael. It’s more than just a ring." Maria stood up and walked down to be next to him. "Remember – visions are not just visions. I felt what Max was feeling, I could sense what you were thinking. I *don’t* know exactly what the ring represents – but I know that it’s something stronger and more intense than sex."

Michael bent his head down to meet her eyes, remembering the first time he’d been that close to her. The motel room on 285 – she scared him then like she scared him now. There were a few strands of hair falling over her eyes and he had to resist the temptation of smoothing them back.

"What does it mean, Michael? What does the ring mean?" Maria asked in a hopeful whisper.

An ironic grin slid across his lips. Michael reached out and brushed her cheek with his thumb. "We all have our secrets, Maria." Dropping his hand before he did something more than touch her, Michael edged past her and walked back up to the apartment.

**

There was definitely something different about the mood when Maria entered the apartment. Max, Liz and Isabel were in the living room, watching television and joking around. Michael stood in the kitchen, eating an egg roll. He smirked at her as she walked by, to which she rolled her eyes in response, shooting him a sly smile as she joined them on the couch. About an hour later, Michael retired the guest room that Isabel had been staying in, claiming that since he’d had such a rough day he couldn’t *possibly* be expected to sleep in the living room. Maria was laying across the couch, her head resting in Liz’s lap. Isabel and Max were stretched out on the floor, arguing about what channel to watch. Liz sat back and just observed them all – knowing that it wasn’t the same as it’d been in Roswell, but still feeling like something was finally put right.

When the clock struck eleven, Maria jumped up. She rubbed her eyes vigorously, then tried to wake herself up. "I, uh, really should be going. It’s a full house, and I’ll just come by in the morning.""Okay," Liz cocked her head to the side. "Will you be alright to drive home?"

"Yeah," Maria nodded. "I’m just going to splash some cold water on my face, and then head out." She got up and stretched, then headed down the hall.

Max stood up a few minutes later and went to get a glass of water. He noticed Maria standing at the far doorway, nowhere near the bathroom. Quietly, he tiptoed down and ran his finger down her arm. "Watching him sleep?"

Maria nodded sheepishly. "Old habits die hard."

"Come here," he whispered, taking her hand and pulling her into his room. "So, how did it go?" Max asked, sitting down on the bed.

Closing the door behind her, Maria leaned against the bureau. "Okay, I think. He was… furious. But I think he’s calmed down a bit."

"So, you told him." Now that it was just him and Maria, the reality of their action started to settle in on Max.

"No," she said, "you told him. I just explained."

"I didn’t~"

"It’s alright, Max. But now we have other things to think about."

"Liz." The word hung heavily in the air.

Pacing across the room, Maria gathered her hair in a small pile on the top of her head. "I honestly don’t know what to do anymore. Michael is one thing, but Liz…"

"She won’t take it well."

"She won’t take it well at all."

Lying back on the bed, Max moaned in frustration. "Well, she *was* dating someone at the time. She moved on."

"Who are you trying to kid? Are you being successful in fooling yourself, because if so, please tell me how." Maria walked over and sat next to his head. "This is Liz. Parker. The girl who moons over you and gets googly eyes when you come in the room. The girl who’s been convinced that you are her soulmate since the day you, oh, I don’t know, saved her life."

"I know, I know." He rubbed his eyes. "But you said Michael was okay with it."

"I never said he was okay with it. But, c’mon, what is he gonna do?" Maria poked him. "He *left* - me, you, Isabel, everyone. He may be angry – but he has no right to tell me, us, what we can and cannot do. Liz, on the other hand… how do you think she’ll take it that her best friend slept with the boy she was in love with?"

"So, we go back to the original agreement. We don’t tell her."

"Judging from Michael’s reaction… I think that’s the only thing we *can* do."

 

*~*~*

"So," Isabel hopped up on the couch next to Liz. "We’ve barely had a chance to talk. How are you, how’s school – teaching, classes and all that stuff?"

"It’s… good."

"You don’t sound convincing." The blonde poked Liz teasingly.

"No, no… it’s fine. Really." Liz chuckled. "I’m studying what I love, I’m actually enjoying the classes I’m teaching. Just lately things have been, a little odd."

"Lately, as in the past three days?"

"Yeah, kinda like that."

"Kinda?" Isabel asked. She studied her friend’s face. It had the same confused, conflicted look that she saw earlier in the parking lot. Isabel took one last look back over her shoulder as Michael pulled her away, and she saw the way Liz was staring at Max comforting Maria. "Are things okay with you and Max?"

"Oh, of course." Liz shook herself out of her daze. "We’re actually doing well."

"And Maria? She doesn’t seem to have too many friends around here."

"No, well, you know how it is. New place, new people." She shrugged, trying to ignore Isabel’s prodding.

"Do they hang out a lot?" However, Isabel wasn’t giving up. There was something bothering Liz, and she wasn’t going to let her brother screw up a good thing. "Max and Maria, I mean."

"Oh, sure. They were close back in Roswell – the last few years, anyway." A tinge of jealousy coloured her words. "And they don’t really have too much of a support system here… so, of course they hang out a lot."

"I still can’t believe you let Max come out here."

Liz started laughing, then sighed, remembering their big blow-out arguments that followed Max’s declaration. "I *was* pretty angry."

"Just angry?" Isabel teased again.

"I wanted to *kill* him. Your brother is not an easy boy to get over. Or try to get over." Sliding down, Liz rested her feet on the coffee table. "And just when I thought that I might possibly be capable of doing it… he shows up, telling me that he’s coming out here with me."

"I’d have killed him."

"You have no idea how tempted I was."

"But you let him come." Isabel said softly, smiling.

"It’s Max." Liz looked over and bit her lip. She thought of the way he wrote her everyday that she was gone. The moping he did as he helped her pack, without complaint. The image of him standing at the airport, watching her get on the plane to leave. He loved *her* - he wanted to be with *her* - only *her.* Sometimes she needed to be reminded of that. "How could I be without him?"

**

"Hey." Max turned out of the hallway and slid in on the other side of Liz. "Did I miss any good girl talk?"

"Nope." Liz smirked at Isabel, who returned the mischievous grin. "Where’s Maria?"

"Watching Michael sleep."

"Ah," Liz snuggled into Max, relaxing for the first time that day. "I’m surprised that~"

"MARIA!"

The three jumped up, and immediately ran to the back room. No one was quite sure what had happened, or even had the most remote idea of what they were about to see. They crowded into the doorway of the darkened room, the hall light barely illuminating the two figures on the bed. Michael was curled up around Maria again, she sitting against the wall and gently rubbing his back.

"Itsokayitsokayitsokay… I’m here," she kept repeating, her words stumbling over each other. After a few minutes she noticed their audience – shocked into standing in one place. "You can… come in."

"How… how did you know what to do?" Liz asked, stepping in, but quickly moving against the wall.

"I didn’t. I mean, I still don’t know what I’m doing." Maria brushed her left hand against his face. "But this seems to calm him down."

"Is this his… dream?" Isabel whispered hoarsely. Everything she’d heard had been second hand, but she’d never considered anything like this. Michael was in near-convulsions, sweating profusely – all the time clenching tightly onto the woman next to him.

Maria nodded, looking down at him. "Yeah, but this is actually better than the other night."

"Better?" Max asked incredulously, tears stinging his eyes. His sister grabbed his hand stiffly. He could feel her overwhelming fear – would this happen to them? Could they stop it from happening to Michael? "How could this be better?"

"I can’t explain." She cocked her head at Liz. "Can you get me a cool washcloth or something? He’s burning up." The brunette nodded and ran out of the room, returning just as fast with a soaking wet hand towel. She sat at Michael’s feet, amazed at Maria’s ability to be so calm. "He’ll be okay in a little while. At least, he was the other night. Maybe in an hour."

"An hour?" Isabel sobbed. Max let go of her hand and hugged her to him. It was bad enough they didn’t know what was causing it – and they were wracked with guilt over their inability to stop it. All their attempts at protecting him in Roswell… this seemed to be a worse evil than they could imagine. Fear kept them glued in place – fear of doing the wrong thing, fear of not doing anything, fear of losing Michael forever.

"I know you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t have believed me either." Maria tried to laugh. "But he’ll wake up, not remember a thing and just go on with his day." She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair. Michael’s convulsions had already begun to change into slight tremors, and his skin was starting to cool ever so slightly. "He’ll have no idea what he was dreaming about."

Dream. Before Max could even say it, Isabel knew what would be asked of her. And for the first time, Isabel was terrified of going into someone’s dream. Aside from the fact that they had a pact never to dreamwalk in each other’s slumber, she didn’t know if she could face whatever was causing this horrific effect on Michael. But looking at him, so vulnerable and small, so enveloped in a dream-state that was dragging him away, Isabel pushed her fears down and stepped away from her brother. "Okay."

Max kissed her on the temple and joined Liz at the foot of the bed. Isabel walked around to the other side of the bed and laid down next to Michael. Her fingers slid down his arm and she buried her face in his back – mostly to keep them from seeing how fearful she was. Hot tears mixed in with his sweat, causing her to remember those nights when she was young and she cried herself to sleep every night, not knowing where he was sent to live. Isabel grasped onto Michael’s arm tightly, her body finally beginning to relax.

"We’ll let you… do your thing." Max got up and took Liz’s hand. She stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Maria edged over on the bed, trying to release herself from his embrace. Michael, feeling her move away, instinctively rolled towards her. Helpless and torn, she looked up at Max, then over at Isabel who was stirred out of her daze by Michael’s sudden movement.

"Stay, Maria." Isabel whispered. "He’s calmer when you are around. I don’t think I’ll be able to get in if he goes back to that frantic state. I need you to be… He needs you to be here."

Sliding back down, Maria rested her head on the pillow next to Michael. She stroked his cheek with her thumb. "Don’t worry – do what you need to. I’ll be here."


	11. Chapter 11

Michael woke up strangely aroused. Sandwiched tight between two warm bodies, he was almost afraid to open his eyes to see what kind of mess he’d gotten into. His clothes were still on, and he figured that was a good thing. Peeking out underneath his eyelashes, he saw Maria cuddled up against his chest – his own arms clenching her to him. He turned his head slightly and felt Isabel’s hair brush against his face. Her head was buried in his back, but her long blonde locks were all over his arms and shoulders.

Slowly, he released Maria and she rolled onto her back. The wrinkles of his shirt were pressed into her cheek and her hair was all matted down on one side. Michael smiled, and reached up to remove one of the small pins that was sticking out perpendicular to her head.

"Hey." Her eyes fluttered open, looked at him, then closed again.

Slowly, the truth of the situation dawned on him – why Maria was in bed with him, why Isabel was curled up against him on the other side. He rested his hand on her stomach and leaned over into her ear. "I called?"

"I came."

That was it. That’s all she could say? Maria didn’t even look at him, she just answered as nonchalantly as if she’d been asked if she wanted fries with that. Remembering that he was *supposed* to be angry with her, Michael moved his arm and laid it on his side. "I’m still mad, you know. And~"

"Oh, shut up, Michael." Maria interrupted, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Later, you can yell at me all you want, but I’m exhausted right now."

"Fine."

Now she was awake. That boy was determined to keep her from sleeping, wasn’t he? Michael never needed as much sleep as she did, but at least in the past he’d go to bed much later than she would, so they’d wake up around the same time. Not that he was that much fun in the morning, anyway. Maria snickered at the thought of him, groggy and disheveled, walking around his apartment and moping.

"What?" Michael was getting annoyed. First she tells him to shut up, now she’s laughing at him?

A silly grin made its way across Maria’s face, although her eyes remained shut. "Nothing, really. I was just thinking that you were always such a grump in the morning."

"I was not." He said indignantly.

"Ohhh… okay. *Sure.*"

Michael snorted in response. There was something about that tone he’d always loved. Actually, he loved her voice in general. It was passionate, soothing, and teasing – a few other things too, but they were indescribable. Sometimes only one emotion would take center stage, but more often than not, it was a mix of several – and he was so proud when he could tell how she was feeling just by the way she was speaking. He could tell when she was hiding something, when she needed him to bring it out, and when she just needed to be left alone. Michael scooted down, a little closer to Maria. "So, I kept my part of the bargain."

"Your part of the bargain?"

"I talked to Isabel. Now… you have to tell me why you keep doing this. Being here."

Maria turned her head and looked at him for the first time. Her hand tucked one of the many errant pieces of hair behind his ear, then slid down to cup his face. "Do you really have to ask?"

Closing his eyes, Michael shook his head, trapping her hand between his cheek and shoulder.

"Will you two either shut up or leave?" Isabel’s low grumble erupted from the other side of the bed. "What time is it anyway?" She looked at her watch from under swollen lids. "It’s six a.m., people. Go back to sleep. Now. Before I kill both of you."

Maria’s eyes grew wide, and Michael pressed his forehead to hers. Their silence didn’t last long, though, and soon they broke up into hysterical laughter like scolded children. Michael crawled over her and stood on the side of the bed. He grabbed Maria by the hand and pulled her out of the room, her giggles trailing down the hall.

**

"They have nothing."

"That’s not true. See… fruit and vegetables and eggs and~"

"God, they even have healthy cereal."

"It’s Max and Liz. What do you expect?"

Elbowing Michael out of the way, Maria reached into the refrigerator and grabbed an apple. She left him staring hopelessly at the contents, and sat back into one of the dining room chairs. "So, what are you gonna make me?"

"Make *you*?" He scoffed, popping his head above the door.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "If I’m going to have nights like this, well then I expect some kind of gourmet breakfast in the morning, buddy."

"You’re going to milk this for all it’s worth – aren’t you?"

"Mmmm…" Maria took a bite of her apple and studied the ceiling. "Only when I’m hungry. Or my back hurts from sitting in uncomfortable positions all night. Or my feet need to be rubbed. Or my apartment needs to be cleaned…"

As she rattled on, Michael leaned on the refrigerator door, watching Maria count off the numerous ways he could ‘repay his debt to her.’ There was something almost perverse in the glee she was taking in the situation – and his predicament. He wasn’t used to waking up with someone so strangely jovial after a night obviously filled with terror and cries. Usually, he found them either across the room, staring wide-eyed in disbelief and fear – or curled up on a couch, refusing to let him come near. After the first few times, Michael learned to sleep alone. No matter how exhausted he might be, he’d drag himself back to his apartment and cover himself in blankets – hoping that the pillows would muffle his wailing.

Lydia was the first one to make him stay. Even after he’d explained about his night tremors, she still insisted. But she reacted the way they all did – pulling away from him, keeping a ‘safe’ distance. A few days later, she came by his apartment unannounced – Michael hadn’t expected to see her again. In the doorway she stood awkwardly, then reached out to touch his face and kissed him… then spent the night. It was from her that he found out what had been going on – as much as she could bring herself to describe. And on the mornings that he’d torn the bed apart, sheets soaked through with sweat – he woke up next to her.

But it was never like she was happy to be there in the morning. She’d comfort him, kiss his head, rub his back – always with a sense of separation. Soon the questions about Maria started in – and his refusal to give her a suitable answer only reinforced their distance. Yet the one he ran from – and kept running from – she held him close, only regretting that she wasn’t able to hold him close enough. Maria had no warning, and no real reason to even let him stay with her that first night. While his anger had subsided a little, she knew that he was still quite upset – that his trust in her was shaky –still she came when he needed her.

"Maria?" He asked tentatively, surprised by how high his voice sounded.

"Uh huh?" Maria looked over, temporarily pausing her list compilation. Her feet were perched on the chair next to her, knees bent so that her elbows could lean against them. Random pieces of hair were sticking out from all sides of her head, her lipstick was slightly smeared below her mouth and her clothes were all rumpled and disheveled. Her bottom lip was set in its predisposed pout, and her eyes were squinting to keep out the light of the rising sun. If he could, Michael would keep her like that forever. That which he could not fully comprehend in the bed moments earlier, he clearly understood now. Because for the first time, Michael let himself accept the truth that he’d been running from since… since he could remember.

She loved him. No matter what.

"Ummm… how do you want your eggs?"

"Sunnyside up. And don’t cook them too long – I hate it when you don’t leave the yolks runny." Leaning over, she pointed at something behind him. "They should have bread there – and the toaster is on top of the fridge. Buttered – lots – and not margarine. I know they have butter – I just brought some over last week."

Michael opened the door wider and took out the carton of eggs. Looking for the bread, he turned his back to Maria, so that she couldn’t see the grin plastered to his face. Five years pass – and nothing changed. Or at least, nothing defining about her changed. She still ate her eggs the same way, still complained about the way he cooked, still…

"So, how long do your, um, episodes last? I mean, when I’m not around?"

…had no qualms with bringing up uncomfortable subjects. Dropping a pat of butter into the frying pan, Michael shrugged. "Not sure, really. I think an hour – maybe two? That’s what Lydia said."

"Ah. How many times has she seen you go through them?"

"Enough. In the beginning, she even tried to get me to go to some hypnotherapist – to see what was causing them. Like I could actually let someone put me under. Who the hell knows what I would have said…" He cracked an egg and poured it into the pan. "I said that I went once, but that it wasn’t for me."

"She, uh, Lydia – she really cares about you." Maria played with the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

"Mmmmm… yeah."

It wasn’t working. Gentle prodding had never been Maria’s strong suit. Direct and headstrong – that’s what she was. Part of her wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he told her everything he knew – about his dreams, his life, whatever. But Michael still seemed bewildered by his own inability to comprehend what was going on inside his head – the last thing he needed was a shrieking pixie getting in his face.

"An hour or two? Wow. And I can imagine that she – or the-other-multitudes-of-women-that-you’ve-‘spent the night’-with – were all that thrilled with hearing you call out my name."

"Subtle, Maria." He chuckled under his breath.

"What? What? What? I’ve been good." The blonde wrinkled her nose, her words rushing out in a flurry. "And it hasn’t been easy. You have to give me that I’ve been good."

"Yes, you have – and I’m grateful for it. Really." Michael slid the egg out onto a plate and poked at its yoke with his finger. It had cooked too long – she’d complain. Sighing, he cracked two more, determined to pay better attention this time. "And, no – she wasn’t. In fact, you have long been a source of contention between Lydia and me. Well, between me and the not-so-many-women I’ve shared bed space with." A small smile grew as he watched the egg whites begin to bubble. "I don’t think that you have much of a fan club, to tell you the truth. My refusal to explain who you are didn’t help things, I’m sure."

Grunting, Maria sneered at him. "The least you could do is make up some intricate and grandiose tale about the elusive beauty that got away, that you couldn’t handle life without – you know… lie."

The toast popped up, and Michael buttered it quickly, placing it onto a plate with up-to-Maria’s-par eggs. He walked over and handed Maria her breakfast. "I wouldn’t have to lie. The truth is… well, there are no proportions mythic enough for you."

"Why?"

"Why are there no proportions~"

"No." Maria interrupted, her face suddenly serious. "Why do you keep calling for me?"

"I, um…" Stepping backwards, Michael leaned into the counter – hoping it would keep him up. "I don’t know." They stayed in a deadlocked stare – Michael, desperately trying to hold onto one of the few secrets he had left, and Maria, hurt that he wouldn’t tell her the role that she played in all of this. Determined not to let her big green eyes break him, Michael fixed his gaze on her lips – which, in the past, had been successful when trying to tune out the world. It was working – almost too well. It was only when he smelled something not quite right that Michael felt the burning pain in his right hand. He leaped back, his body shuddering in realization of what he’d just done.

"Oh God!" Maria jumped up from the chair and grabbed his hand, running it under cold water. "Are you okay?"

Michael nodded, in a slight shock. Her small delicate hands held his under the stream, careful not to touch the burned skin. She wrapped one arm around his back when she noticed how pale his face had become. It wasn’t from the pain, really – but more from the knowledge that he’d completely lost touch with everything around him for a short period of time. Michael silently chastised himself for being so stupid. All his life, he was used to being on guard around everyone and everything. Now he had a physical reminder of what could happen when he dropped it.

Maria turned off the water for a moment and brought his palm up to her face. He watched as she examined his hand – neck bent, only the top of her head visible. The smell was back – not the one from moments earlier – but the one from two mornings ago, when he woke up in her bed. That familiar, comforting smell. The smell that used to infiltrate his clothes. Michael felt dizzy, and it didn’t help when she smiled up at him, almost giggling.

"My mom used to do this when I was little. She said they were magic kisses, and would take all the pain away." Delicately, Maria pressed her lips on the tips of each of his fingers in succession.

His knees felt weak, almost ready to buckle under the pressure of his body which had given up all attempts at maintaining any kind of dignity. The sensation of her soft kisses swirled around with the sweet scent that was now heavy in the room. There were only remnants of his stone wall remaining. "Do you want it back?" he whispered hoarsely.

"What?" She asked, kissing his pinky.

"The ring."

Maria stopped what she was doing, and looked at Michael. The combination of fear, anxiety, hopefulness, dread and need was naked on his face. Exhaling slowly, she gently dropped his hand and cupped his cheeks in her hands. A hint of a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "It’s not time, Michael… not yet. When you are ready to tell me what it means, then I’ll be ready to take it back."

 

*~*~*

They all sat around the table, staring at Isabel expectantly. She ate her cereal slowly, every so often looking up at the four solemn faces surrounding her. Each time, she’d shake her head lightly and go back to ignoring them.

"If you don’t stop – I won’t tell you anything. And that’s a promise."

Four hushed "sorry"s danced across the room. They hung their heads low, yet no one managed to take their eyes off her for more than a minute or two. Isabel would catch one staring again, and they would immediately dart their eyes over to someone else. She pursed her lips, trying not to smile – feeling like a parent to four children on Christmas morning. A warped Christmas, though – as much as they were anticipating Isabel’s report, she could sense the dread in every one of them.

Finally, she sat back and wiped her mouth with a napkin. Cautiously, they all looked up at her – hoping that she was ready to tell them what she saw.

"I have never seen anything like that before." Michael exhaled harshly, slinking down in his seat. Isabel frowned, then turned to Max. "But it was familiar. Even though I’d never *been* there – as I followed Michael, I knew exactly where I was. I knew every corner, every street, every building."

"Do you think it was…" Max’s voice trailed off. It had been so long that they’d discussed ‘home’ that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

"I don’t know." Closing her eyes, Isabel tried to recall the images from the night before. "But if it is… it wasn’t good, Max. It was dark and gray. Like a city that had been bombed several times over. People were rushing around in a panic – hundreds, thousands – all seeking some kind of safe haven. Michael~" She opened her eyes and looked at the young man sitting across from her. "Michael walked through the crowds in a sort of daze – kind of like a fish swimming upstream, but completely unaware that he was going the wrong way. Anyway… he kept going – away from the craziness – not seeming to notice the large craters in the road or the buildings falling to pieces around him. He got to this clearing… this park on the outskirts of town. There were all these crafts – oval-looking sphere type things – and they were taking off one after the other. Some small ones, some that looked like it had enough room for several people. Michael got in one of the small ones and the top closed over him – it was the first time I could see his face clearly." Isabel paused and cocked her head at her friend. "You looked so unemotional. Like you’d shut everything out and it didn’t seem like you actually saw what was going on around you."

Suppressing the snide comment that immediately flew to mind, Maria glanced over at Michael. His head was down, his shoulders slumped, his face tensed – he looked more broken than he had the first night he came to her apartment. As inconspicuously as possible, she slid her hand under the table and took his, and rubbed his thumb. For a moment, she could feel him relax a tiny bit.

Isabel took a sip of water. "The next part was kind of hard to follow. The craft took off, and was flying super fast. Then, it was like it was spinning out of control. Spinning in a direct nosedive, gaining speed with every passing second – it was going down hard and fast. For a while, it was all pitch black. Then white, blue, and then this reddish-yellow colour. I think it was the desert… out near where our pods were."

"So, you saw the crash?" Liz asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I don’t know." Isabel’s voice was soft. "Maybe. It was all so surreal. I waited for the craft to open, and Michael got out – but he was still gray. His aura, his colouring – it was as gray as the planet he’d been on. And as he walked around – everywhere he walked, everything he touched turned gray. Kind of like some twisted kind of Midas Touch."

"All of a sudden, there was this loud noise way across the desert, like another crash. And that noise was the first thing that I saw Michael react to. His eyes got all wide, and he started to freak out – a lot like the people in the city. He ran towards the source of the sound – but it was so far that he had no idea where he was going. And then you…" Nodding at Maria, she continued. "You were sitting on a rock, smiling. Not doing anything, really – just smiling. When Michael finally saw you, he stopped short. It was like he was… terrified… of you. Which was really strange – considering that he felt more fear being around you than he did in that wretched place."

Apologetically, Michael squeezed Maria’s hand. She appreciated the effort – but it didn’t dispel the feelings that had arisen through Isabel’s story. There was no question that his dreams were more than a simple nocturnal fantasy, and that they were the best way to learn about why he had lost his powers and couldn’t sleep through the night. And here Maria was being told that in this dream-reality, Michael preferred an apocalyptic atmosphere to being near her in any way. She dropped her head so as to avoid the artful eyes of her friends.

"Maria jumped off the rock and walked over to him. I could see Michael catch his breath – totally afraid of what she might do to him. She circled him slowly, still smiling – not maliciously, quite sincerely, actually. But it was when she was standing squarely in front of him that I noticed how strange she looked."

Maria jerked back in her seat, confused and insulted. She let go of Michael’s hand and narrowed her eyes at Isabel.

"Her hair was so bright – almost a blinding gold. And her eyes were like two large emeralds, her lips were this crazy ruby red. At first she seemed like a caricature, but… not." Isabel chuckled in disbelief. "I mean, half the world was gray – the other half this muted yellowish-red, and there was Maria – in full living colour. I couldn’t help laughing at Michael’s confusion, especially when he touched her the tip of her nose and she didn’t turn gray."

They all laughed at the image, thankful for the moment of levity. Blushing, Michael’s grin quickly disappeared when he saw the stoned look on Maria’s face. Without needing to think about it, he knew exactly what was on her mind – almost as if her thoughts were being broadcast into his head. It was all fine and good to know that she confused him – that was nothing new – but why was he calling out for her?

Isabel picked up on Maria’s body language as well. The blonde pulled her hair back into a ponytail and started into the last act of the dream. "Anyway, and I remember this quite clearly, Maria’s eyes popped wide open and she began to giggle uncontrollably. She took Michael by the hand and ran – off in the direction of the noise. At first he refused to run as fast as her, so she slowed down until he caught up. Then, like he was trying to prove something, Michael passed her, so she just let go of his hand and jogged along at her own pace. Maybe a few minutes later, he stopped, all confused and looked around for her. He waited for her to get to him, then took her hand and they started running again. And then they came upon a cliff – I can’t even begin to describe the drop. It was like hundreds and hundreds of feet below. At the bottom was another craft – a bit larger than Michael’s."

"They tried yelling – but there was no one to hear them. I don’t know if they’d gotten out, or had left, or if they hadn’t… I don’t know. Michael wanted to climb down, but Maria started to walk away – to find a safer route, I think. All of a sudden he got really scared, like she was going to leave him, and he yanked her back. Something happened – she twisted her foot or moved too quickly – and the next thing I knew, she was plummeting down into the canyon. Watching her body fall, Michael slumped to his knees at the edge of the cliff and cried – screaming out her name over and over."

Reaching over, Michael found Maria’s hand and squeezed it tightly – like he was afraid she might slide off the chair and meet the same fate as the Dream-Maria. She couldn’t look at him – or anyone for that matter. Her eyes were clenched shut and her attention was intensely focused on her breathing. Inhale – Exhale. Inhale – Exhale. That was her answer – that’s what she wanted to know, wasn’t it? In his dream – she dies. She’s not saving him, or even taking care of him – she’s falling off a cliff to her death. "That’s pretty much it…" Isabel said quietly. "Except…"

"Except?" Max asked. "Except… the other craft," she turned to her brother. "I think it was ours, Max. I think it was us that Michael was trying to reach. I don’t even know why I think it – but… it’s like how everything seemed so familiar in the other place. I can’t say for sure that it was home, and I can’t say for sure that it was our craft – but in all the dreams that I’ve gone into - nothing has ever felt so clear."

**

Shoving the chair behind her, Maria walked across to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of juice. Four pairs of eyes watched her, none more intently than Michael’s. The irony was not lost on him – one of the most important moments of his life, and he was more concerned with how Maria was taking things. After all, it was Maria that urged him to tell Isabel, Maria that told him he should go back to Max and work things out, Maria that … made him do the things he was afraid to do on his own. It wasn’t as if he really wanted to know what his dreams were about, anyway. His motto for the past few years, especially after all the dead ends, was that ignorance was truly bliss. At least, that’s what he’d tried to convince himself.

"Well, we still don’t know what it means." Isabel turned in her chair and faced the others.

"I have a pretty good idea of what it means," Maria grumbled into her glass.

"What?" Max looked back at her.

Realizing that she’d actually spoken aloud, Maria coughed and shrugged. "Nothing."

"No," Max cocked his head at her. "What did you say?"

Sighing, she put the glass down on the counter. "Think about it. In the dream, Michael couldn’t get to you… because of me." Her eyes swept over the four. "I’m not trying to make this about me, really. I may not be the only reason he’s having them, but you can’t tell me that his relationship to me isn’t a factor of his nightmares. But let’s face it, we all know that they are more than dreams."

"But… he found the ship because of you." Liz said, trying to help.

"Besides," Isabel slung her arm over the chair and eyed Maria skeptically. "What could possibly be the reason that *you* would come between Michael and us?"

Maria’s glance flew to Michael, who had suddenly become quite interested in the pattern grooves in the table. His nails dug the small indentations deeper as he felt her eyes boring down on him. He was hoping desperately that if he didn’t look at Maria, she wouldn’t press the issue, she wouldn’t figure it out.

"You bound your life to mine." Maria was always a lot smarter than anyone gave her credit for.

"Maria." Michael’s eyes begged her not to go on.

"That’s what you did, isn’t it? That’s what the ring is about." Her hands fell staunchly on her hips, her head shaking as the pieces started to come together.

"Wait. You don’t~" He stood up, and took a step towards her.

"Undo it. Unbind it, break it – whatever." Maria backed away. "I don’t care. Just make it stop."

"Michael, what is she talking about?" Now completely confused, Isabel turned around to face the two of them.

Looking past the blonde, Maria glared at the dark-haired man across from her. "Is that why you didn’t tell me, Max?"

"Max?" Liz turned to her boyfriend, her suspicions once again aroused.

Ignoring her, Max looked up at Maria, his hands raised in supplication. "Hey – I didn’t know any more than you did."

"Know about *what*?" Isabel was past frustrated, entering fury territory.

Sighing heavily, Michael stood with his back to Maria, facing the rest of the group. "The ring I asked Max to give Maria."

"The silver one?" Liz furrowed her eyebrows.

"Undo it, Michael."

"I…" Michael spun around and closed his eyes. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he inhaled and opened them slowly. "No. I want you to listen to me."

"*Listen to you?* Now, of all times, you want *me* to listen?" The petite blonde stepped in, yelling angrily. "No. I’m not going to listen. Five years ago, I would have listened. Three years ago, I would have listened. If you said, ‘Hey Maria, I’m about to join us together forever,’ I would have listened. But you never said that, did you Michael? Did you?"

"Everyone calm down for a minute." Liz’s interruption surprised them all, herself the most. Around the room, Isabel was frustrated and confused, Max was purposely staying out of everything, Maria was fuming, and Michael was so far into a corner with no easy way of getting out. Liz didn’t know what to do. It was a rare occasion that she’d been on the receiving end of Maria’s ire, and she didn’t envy Michael his position. Softly, Liz tried to bring down the emotional intensity of the room. "Now, Michael, what is the deal with the ring?"

Michael swallowed hard. This was a moment that he *wasn’t* looking forward to – that he never really thought would happen. When he gave Max that ring – Michael truly believed that he would never see Maria again. But when he decided to stay, he knew that this moment would come. He would have to tell Maria what he did, and deal with the fallout.

The clock above the hallway ticked off the seconds, then minutes of virtual silence. With every small click, Maria felt the exhaustion setting in. Her body, her soul, was so unbelievably tired, and she couldn’t stand there any longer waiting for Michael to fess up. She marched over and grabbed her coat from the couch.

"I have to go." Maria announced to room with a tinge of bitterness. "I have a store to open, and a life to get back to. My own life. One that *I* control."

 

*~*~*

 

"Hey."

"Hey." Maria nodded at Liz who was leaning in the doorway separating the store from the studio.

"How are you doing?"

"Okay. Came home, showered. The store’s been pretty busy – so that’s kept my mind off things."

"Things got kind of quiet after you left." Liz moved into the room, closing the door behind her.

"I meant it, Liz," Maria warned. She sat down in a chair and began to fiddle with the broken clasp of a necklace. "I’m getting back to my own life. I can’t be concerned with trying to keep this store running, and being at his beckon call."

"I don’t think that’s what Michael wants." Liz frowned.

"You know what? I don’t care anymore," Maria snapped. She glanced up for a moment, then turned her attention back to her work. "He can throw me off all the cliffs he wants. I don’t care," she muttered under her breath.

"Maria…" The brunette reached over and touched her friend’s arm. "It’s not like he’s doing it consciously."

Tossing the necklace on the table, Maria leaned back into her chair and rubbed her temples. "Liz, I know you’re only trying to help. But… I just need some time to myself. Sort stuff out… things like that."

"Okay." Liz nodded. "Just… just don’t shut me out, okay?"

Sensing her best friend’s concern, Maria smiled. "Okay."

**

Michael walked into the small store, looking for Maria amid the customers milling about. He was still apprehensive about coming here, and it was obvious in his whole aura. That Lucy girl was helping someone, and he didn’t want to come right out and ask where Maria was. After all, he didn’t know how many horrible stories she’d been told about him. He stood in the middle of the crowd, trying to look interested in a pair of small topaz earrings on a wall display.

"OH! So are you here to get the engagement ring?" Lucy appeared at his side, greeting him with a grin bordering on psychotic. He started to understand why Maria didn’t trust the store to the girl for long periods of time.

"No… no." Michael shook his head, stepping back. "Is, uh, Maria here?"

"Maria?" The girl asked, her surprised voice rising above the murmurs of the people perusing.

At the sound of Lucy’s voice, Maria opened the door and looked out to see if she needed help. Michael caught her eye, and raised his eyebrows in hopes that she would talk to him. Crossing her arms, she groaned to her best friend. "What is *he* doing here?"

Liz peeked out the door and smiled at Michael. "I, um, drove him."

"Liz."

"Just listen to him, Maria. Please."

"I told you, I told him, I’m not listening anymore."

Standing against the small doorframe, Liz cocked her head. "Just talk to him. You owe *yourself* that. I can’t see you go through all that just to fall apart again. Maria, I’m so afraid that you will retreat back into that bubble. I’m so afraid that I’m going to lose you again. We both know that it’s not over. At least, maybe, if you talk… it’ll be a little better."

Maria narrowed her eyes at the brunette, then back out at the fidgety young man in her store. Sighing harshly, she turned back to Liz. "Go help Lucy," she said, and walked back into her studio.

Liz motioned for Michael to follow Maria, then joined Lucy behind the counter.

**

"Two minutes."

Michael closed the door and leaned against the worktable just inside the studio. Maria’s back was to him, her voice calling behind her when she heard him enter. He didn’t say anything, waiting for her to turn around.

"One minute, fifty seconds."

Groaning, he grasped the edge of the table tighter. Her head was bent over the small desk, working on some other piece of jewelry. She spoke to him as if she couldn’t care less if he stayed or left. Just when he thought that they’d reached some sort of understanding, Maria would show him how cold she could really be. It was a defense mechanism – he knew that, but it always got to him.

"You’re right."

The chair spun around with such force that Maria had to catch herself before falling off. "What? Wait a minute. What? Did you just say what I think you did?" She laughed in sincere surprise. "Michael Guerin, admitting that *I’m* right about something? Oh… I have to savor this. I’ll even give you an extra minute – hell, I’ll give you *two* extra minutes."

"Yes, I said that you were right. I should have… told you earlier or something." Michael looked down, then met her gaze. "But I’m not sorry."

"You’re not *sorry*?" Her eyes widened in astonishment.

"No." He replied quietly.

"You fuck with my life, and you’re not sorry." She deadpanned.

"No. You don’t understand what it’s about… just listen."

"Listen to what, Michael? Did you, or did you not basically bind our lives?"

"Yes, but… It’s not what you think."

Maria stood up and stomped over to him. "Not what I think? I’m really tired of you telling me what I should and shouldn’t think. I’m tired of you deciding what I should and shouldn’t know. I’m tired of you walking in and walking out of lives without giving a damn about how your actions affect other people. I’m tired of~"

"God, do you *ever* shut up?" Michael grumbled, shaking his head.

"Me?" Maria asked, annoyed. "Shut up? Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are talking to~"

"SHUT UP!" Michael yelled, clenching his fists to his temples. "For two-fucking-minutes, will you shut up!"

"Do NOT yell at me!" Maria slapped his arm. "I have customers out there and they can hear you. Plus, you have NO right to tell me what to do!"

"Grrr," he grunted, moving around the table to stand in front of her. He watched her mouth open to start in on him again, and before he knew what he was doing – before she had a chance to react – Michael forcefully grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her.

Maria wasn’t sure if she was still standing – there was no feeling left in her legs. Her hands grasped onto his wrists, at first in an attempt to drag his arms down – now she held on tightly to keep herself up. A flush of hatred hit her as she recalled her prediction of almost a decade ago. Michael ruined it – kissing, touching, whatever – for her. Nothing, nothing with anyone else ever came close to this. His lips were just as she remembered them: soft, yet aggressive, making every spot they touched tingle. His thumbs caressed her cheekbones, the rough skin on his fingertips a sharp contrast to her silken skin. The table was providing her only support as he pressed his body firmly against hers.

A gentle mew broke into the virtual silence, and Maria chided herself on letting him get to her. She let go of his wrists and flattened her hands against his chest, thrusting him away sharply. Her conflicting emotions obvious as her fingers wrenched the fabric of his shirt, even after he was an arm’s length away. Michael fell back, heaving deep breaths.

"I’m~" He stopped. What was going to say? That he was sorry? He wasn’t. That he shouldn’t have kissed her? He wanted to – he’d wanted to for years. Michael watched as her fingers stroked her swollen lips, and it was all he could do not to return to that luscious pout. He hoisted himself up on the counter across from her, his back stiff against the wall. "Just listen. Please."

Eyes fixed on the ground, Maria nodded quickly. Her life was no longer getting stranger by the day, it was getting stranger by the minute. In the past five – Michael had admitted she was right, actually used the word "please," and kissed her. God, did he kiss her. Her knees still felt weak, and her thumb now rubbed over her lips as she tried to not fall apart in front of him.

"I asked him – White Eagle – if there was some way that I could… I don’t know. Connect us, or whatever. He didn’t want to do it, for all the reasons you said. It wouldn’t be fair, you wouldn’t really have a say in the matter… but I just kept at him until he gave in." Michael looked for a sign of acknowledgement, but she didn’t move. "There was a small, kind of ceremony thing – just me and him. I really didn’t understand it. But he told me that there was a catch – or something. That we wouldn’t be completely, uh, bonded, until you knew… came to it of your own volition." He scrunched his eyebrows. "That’s why I was surprised when I saw you wearing the ring. Because I thought it was, I guess a sign. And that’s why I didn’t correct you when you told me it was from Max. I didn’t want to rip up everything again – and put another weight on your mind."

"So, Max knew."

"No, Max didn’t know." Sighing, Michael leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "He only knew that it was important that he give it to you. It was pretty stupid on my part. I don’t know how I expected you to agree to it, if you didn’t know what was going on. I think that’s why White Eagle finally agreed – because it was next to impossible that you would find out what I did, and if you didn’t know – then we weren’t really bonded."

"So, after a peyote-induced night of hallucinations, you decided that you wanted to be joined with me forever."

"Peyote?"

Maria looked up at Michael for the first time since she pushed him away. "Max told me you three took a lot of peyote that night."

"Oh." He shook his head. "No. The peyote had nothing to do with it. It had been on my mind for… a while. I had the rings before I left Roswell."

"Rings?" Confusion was clear on her face. Maria suddenly realized that in all the time he’d been with her, she’d never noticed the silver ring on his left hand. Slowly, she walked over to him and took his hand in hers, running her thumb over the ring. It was nearly-identical to the one she’d worn for years. The marking carved into it were similar, but not quite exactly the same. Maria rested a hip against the counter, between Michael’s legs. "What does it say?"

"Say?"

A half-smile lit up her face. "I’ve tried to figure out what the markings on mine represented. One of the few things I’ve learned about you is that, as haphazard as you may be with your actions, you are very deliberate with your art."

Michael blushed and put all his weight on one side, retrieving something from his pocket. "You wouldn’t have been able to figure it out. It’s, um, well… the symbols are derived from what I could figure out of our language. And, they… the rings… they don’t make much sense unless they are together." Maria laughed softly as Michael took his own ring off. Placing them side by side, he lined them up so that the message was clear to him. "There… that’s it."

With her index finger, Maria traced over the line where the rings touched. "It still doesn’t make any sense to me, o alien one."

Turning as he read, Michael smiled. "It says, ‘Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.’ It’s from a poem."

"Cummings." Maria nodded. "Somewhere I have never traveled…"

"You know it." His tone was not questioning, but more one of awed reverence. Not unlike his tone in the motel room on 285 that fateful night.

"Of course."

Sliding his ring back on, Michael fingered Maria’s. "So, I’ve been trying to figure it out. And I think it happened that night."

Completely thrown by the sudden change of topic, Maria raised an eyebrow. "What happened? What night?"

"The night you and, uh, Max, uh…"

"Ohhh…" Maria pursed her lips tightly. "That night."

"Yeah." Michael paused, taking a breath. "You said that you knew the ring was from me – that you knew how important it was to me."

"I did."

Pulling his legs up onto the counter, he crossed them between him and Maria. "I think, maybe, that’s when it happened. I mean, I know you didn’t *really* know what was going on… but maybe because of some glitch, it was enough. And it was all complete," Michael’s knees bounced nervously.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Maria sat down into a nearby chair. "Well, how are we going to undo it?"

A dagger was thrown into Michael’s chest. He closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his heart – that was not the question he was expecting. "I-I-I don’t know," he stuttered. "Do you *want* to undo it?"

"I can’t watch you go through these dreams, Michael. And I can’t spend the rest of my life worrying about you – not like this."

"I know."

"It’s not that…"

"No, I understand." Michael hopped off the counter and dusted himself off. "It was selfish of me, I didn’t think. And now I…we have to deal with the consequences."

"Michael." Maria reached out for him as he passed her. Her hand held his, making him stop momentarily.

"I should let you go, you have a store to run." Dropping her hand, Michael tried to smile. "I’m going to head back to Max’s."

He went out to the store, leaving the door open a crack. Maria stared after him, the quiet bustle of customers trickling in. It was only when she looked down at her hands in her lap that she noticed the small silver ring that he had pressed into her palm.

 

*~*~*

"Mmmm… Michael should come to town more often." Liz rolled over and planted kisses in a line down Max’s chest. The room was filled with the heady scent of sex. His arm came up and wrapped around her shoulders.

"And you say this, because?" Max murmured, content and sleepy.

Propping herself on one elbow, Liz grinned down at her lover. "I don’t think I’ve been ravaged so often… or so intensely in quite a while…" She laughed, tracing a small circle around his nipple.

"I guess I’ve had a lot of…"

"Frustrations to work out?" She teased.

Max chuckled. "That’s one way to think of it. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m only interested in~"

"Oh, I’m not complaining." Her hand slid down his body, coming to rest just below his abs. "In fact, I’m trying to think of the best way to tie Michael up and make him stay. Especially if I get more naked, frisky Max."

Flipping her over, Max held both of Liz’s wrists in one hand, and leering down at her seductively. "You like naked, frisky Max, do you?" He nibbled on her neck, just below her ear. Liz was caught midway between bursting into giggles, and pouncing him for what would be the fifth time that day. Her body, worn out from their last session, won out.

"Max, Max, Max…" She whimpered. "You have to stop. I need… a little rest here." He let go of her hands, and she reached out to touch the small pout he’d developed. "As much as I am… enjoying this immensely… you know that you’re going to have to talk to him…"

Max curled up against Liz, resting his head on her shoulder. "Yeah. I know. I will… eventually."

**

Tapping his foot under the table impatiently, Michael stared at Isabel until she handed the Tabasco sauce over. He quickly emptied the bottle and signaled to the waitress to bring him another. "How’s Alex?" he asked, before biting into his burger.

"Alex? Fine. I really should call him – I haven’t spoken to him since I got here." Isabel noticed Michael’s raised eyebrows. "We’re friends, just friends."

"Mmm hmmm."

"Well, I didn’t go off and bond our lives together or anything," she snapped.

"Is."

"So," Isabel picked at her fries. "Explain to me again what you did."

"I’ve already explained it three times."

"I still don’t completely understand."

Michael took a sip of his soda, then went back to his burger. "Tough."

"I guess what I don’t understand…" Wrinkling her nose, Isabel hesitated. "Well, why Maria?"

"Why not Maria?" he shrugged.

"Why not!" Her eyes widened in exasperation.

"I’m not getting into this with you." Michael stated firmly.

"So… what… you just went off and married the first person that popped into your head?"

"I’m not married." He started pouring more hot sauce in his drink. "And I’m not getting married. So, just put that out of your mind."

"Well, you better tell that to Maria. She’s the kind of girl that sits up nights dreaming about her ‘just-so’ wedding."

"No, she isn’t." Shooting the blonde a confused look, he grabbed a couple of her fries. "Besides, she wants me to break it."

"Maybe that’s best."

Michael sat up, surprised, and a bit hurt. He’d expect a comment like that from Max, but Isabel? Lately Isabel had been the one he could relate to more. There was still the underlying fear that she might lose ‘her boys,’ but with the dream and everything… Michael was shocked that after all that, Isabel couldn’t see how important Maria was to him.

His emotions were written across his face, and Isabel flinched when she saw what her words had done. Biting her lip, she searched for a way to soften the blow. "I’m sorry, Michael. I just hate to see what you are going through…" She laughed softly. "I thought that maybe it was one thing Maria and I actually agreed upon."

"She’s still not over it, is she?" He asked quietly.

"Miss Hold-a-grudge-until-hell-freezes-over?"

Michael smirked. "That’d be Maria."

"No," Isabel shook her head. "I mean, I was in school for a while, so I hardly saw her. But the six months between my coming home and them moving here were horrible. She’d barely even speak to me. And it didn’t help that Max spent a lot of his time with her."

"So… they were together a lot?"

"You know Max – he’s never been the most sociable person. And Maria, from what Liz said, she kind of retreated from everyone for a while. I think she dated a couple of guys, nothing serious." Isabel glanced towards the door with an amused expression. "Alex used to call them the ‘mopey non-couple.’"

"Couple…" Michael grumbled.

Whipping her head back, Isabel raised an eyebrow. "Why, Michael Guerin, are you jealous?"

"What would I be jealous of?" He scoffed.

"You ARE!" She giggled. "But you have no reason to be. Max is in love with *Liz.* It’s not like anything would *ever* happen between him and Maria."

Biting his tongue, Michael tried to smile back at Isabel, but it came out as a twisted grimace. He sipped his soda, and changed the subject.

**

When they got back to the apartment, Max was lying on the couch, flipping mindlessly through channels. Michael sat in the chair across from him while the blonde walked into the guest room. His nails rapidly drummed against the wooden arms of the chair.

"We need to talk, Maxwell."

Max closed his eyes, then looked over at him. "I know, Michael."

"Not here."

Nodding, Max sat up and pulled on the shirt that was lying on the floor next to him. "We should probably go somewhere there’s a bit more privacy." He walked over and grabbed his keys off the counter and called back to Liz, saying they’d be back later. Michael followed him out to the car.

They drove in complete silence. Max hadn’t ventured to turn the radio on, and Michael stared out the window at the manicured lawns of the houses they passed by. Everything was perfect – not a leaf or blade of grass out of place. Houses not unlike the Evanses – houses that were nothing like the trailer he grew up in. Roswell never felt like home – he didn’t feel like he belonged, or that anything belonged to him. Even Max and Isabel – they were more each others’ than they were his. The one person he thought he had… well, apparently, she belonged to Max now, too.

"Just tell me why."

Michael’s tone was relatively unemotional – but Max was still nervous. "I… it’s hard to explain."

"I don’t need a blow-by-blow explanation – I’ve pretty much seen it." His pointed remark made Max wince. "I only want to know why."

"It kind of just happened. I mean, it wasn’t like we were drunk or anything. It was, well, we were talking, and then we were kissing and then…" His voice trailed off.

"Do you love her?" Michael asked, looking straight ahead.

"Maria? Of course I love her. Aside from Liz and Isabel, she’s the closest person to me."

"Are you *in* love with her?"

Max pulled the car over into the first parking lot he saw. Taking the key out of the ignition, he stared at his fingers gripping the steering wheel. "I don’t know," he gulped. "I know that my feelings run deeper than simple friendship."

"Maria – how does she feel?" Every question was rattled off with a detached sense of inquiry.

"The same, to some degree." For what it was worth, Max was being totally honest. It wasn’t a matter of getting back at Michael, or trying to hurt him, but he know that if the roles were reversed, he’d want to know the truth.

"What about Liz?"

"I love Liz more than anything."

"Then why did you sleep with Maria?" It was the first time that Michael had looked at Max since they’d left the apartment. As he waited for an answer, his cold exterior was slowly slipping away, the car suddenly seemed smaller – and Michael was feeling incredibly claustrophobic. Determined not to let Max see how it was getting to him, Michael opened the door and slammed it shut.

Max got out and sat on the hood, next to where Michael was laying down. He bit his lip, trying to find the best way to explain why he betrayed his best friend. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "She was just sitting on my bed, so sad. We had left the party and walked home – around the lake, through the small patch of woods near my apartment. It took a while, but neither of us noticed, we were just talking. Anyway, I think it hit us both at the same time that it had been a year since Isabel and I had come back… alone. Out of nowhere, Maria started to cry."

Covering his eyes with his hands, Michael thought of the few times he had seen her cry. Maria was an extremely emotional girl – but always more public with her anger than her pain. She had no issue with screaming at him in a crowd of people, but when she was upset – she went off on her own, away from everyone.

"It was probably the first time I saw her cry. And I know that it was the first time she’d cried since you left. There was all this emotion bottled up in her, stuffed down as far as it would go – so, when she let it out, it was like some small explosion. Maria sat there, on my bed, her knees curled to her chest, and sobbed. And there was nothing I could do." Max paused, trying to decide if he should go on, telling Maria’s secrets. He knew that she didn’t want Michael to know how deeply his leaving affected her, but it seemed as if Michael had wrongly convinced himself that the two had embarked on some kind of passionate affair. "I remember the things she said – what she wouldn’t give to hear you yell at her one more time, or even stand close and ignore her. That she’d convince her mother to stop making alien keychains if you would just call, or write, or something. That she wasn’t really angry, because she knew that you *had* to finish your quest. She looked at me, her big eyes blurry from tears and her lip quivering, and asked me if you said anything to me about her, if you still cared."

Leaning forward, Max rubbed his temples. Michael hadn’t moved, but by now it was too late to stop. "I didn’t know what to do. I just… stared at her. And then, without thinking, I kissed her. And she kissed me back. Things kept going. And nothing has ever happened since."

They sat there, in the middle of a busy supermarket parking lot, not speaking to each other. A cool breeze drifted by, and Max regretted not bringing a jacket along. He had a sweater in the car, but he didn’t think it’d be the best time to check. Rubbing his hands against his arms, he blew into his hands to warm them from the chill that was setting in. Michael, however, didn’t move a single muscle for almost a half-hour.

"Funny."

"What?" Max looked at him in utter confusion.

Michael sat up and offered a half-smile. "In a roundabout way… I guess she got her answer."

 

*~*~*

 

"Is Maria coming for dinner?" Max asked, handing Liz the measuring cup.

"No," she answered. "She just kind of wants to be alone for a while." She emptied the breadcrumbs into the bowl and checked on the oven. Michael hadn’t really spoken much on their ride back, but he seemed a little less burdened after leaving the studio. Liz had called Maria, only to get her ‘I’m avoiding the world’ answering machine message. They had been friends for so long that Liz knew the best thing to do now was just give Maria some space and trust that she’d come around.

There was a light rapping at the front door. "I’ll get it," Liz said, wiping her hands on her jeans. She opened the door to find her best friend standing there nervously. "You changed your mind," she smiled.

"No. I, uh, I actually wanted to speak to Isabel." Ignoring Liz’s look of surprise, Maria peeked over her shoulder. "Is she here?"

"Oh yeah." Liz moved out of the doorway, but the blonde didn’t enter. Confused, she called back into the apartment. "Isabel?"

Isabel came down the hallway at Liz’s beckoning. Her eyes darted from Maria to Liz. "What’s up?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to you," Maria stated stiffly.

"Sure. Let me just get my coat." She grabbed her denim jacket from the dining room chair and followed Maria down the stairs. "What’s going on?"

"It’s about Michael’s dream."

Isabel heaved a sigh of relief. Michael hadn’t told her about their conversation, and it didn’t seem as if Maria was looking for an argument. All Isabel wanted was to get through one night without a heated discussion.

"I think he’s trying to get to you, but can’t because he’s worried about me. It’s like he’s so consumed with guilt over my, um, falling that he completely forgets that he needs to find you." Maria kept walking down the street, Isabel a few steps behind.

"I’ve been thinking about his dream all day… and I’m still lost." Isabel thought aloud, "That’s an interesting thought… where did you come up with it?"

Maria furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, today, in my store, when he kissed me~"

"Michael kissed you?" Isabel asked, shocked.

"Yeah," Maria said softly. "But that’s not the point. I just felt… guilt. I mean, not from *me* - from *him.* And it wasn’t for kissing me."

"So, how do we stop him from feeling guilty?"

Stopping short, Maria waited for Isabel to catch up. "That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I know that you don’t really have all that much control in other people’s dreams… but I thought, maybe… if you went into his dream, and tried to catch me from falling… maybe then he wouldn’t notice. And he could do what he needed to do."

"I don’t know if I can do that." Isabel frowned. "I mean, catching you. Not that I want you to die in his dreams… but I haven’t been dreamwalking in a while, and even when I was in practice, it was pretty rare when I could affect anything."

"Just…" Maria looked up at her hopefully. "Just try, Isabel. Please."

Isabel nodded, knowing that exactly was Maria was going through. "I’ll try."

**

It wasn’t unusual to hear someone rustling outside her bedroom door, but never this early on a Sunday. Maria squinted at her alarm clock. 9 a.m. Someone was going to pay for waking her up. Footsteps approached the door, then a moment of silence before the triple knock. It was probably Max, she thought. Liz would know better.

"Come in," she grumbled.

The door opened to reveal the current cause of her stress. Michael stood in the middle of the doorway, looking lost and a little uneasy. He shifted his weight from side to side, digging his hands into his pockets. "I, uh, was going to wait until you opened the store… but I didn’t see you come down."

Maria turned on her side. "That’s because it’s not open on Sundays. Sunday is my only day off. Sunday is the only day I get to sleep in." As she watched his face fall in remorse, the fact that he was in her apartment slowly dawned on her. "How did you get in? Did you Sabrina the door?"

Shaking his head, Michael held up a set of keys. "Max’s. I took the car – and the house keys were on it."

"Mmmm… okay," she said sleepily, rolling onto her back.

"Are you in love with him? Max?"

"What?" Maria cried out, propping herself up on both elbows.

"He said that he didn’t know if he was in love with you or not," Michael stated matter-of-factly. "And that you felt the same."

"No," Maria shook her head in disbelief. "I’m not in love with Max. I *love* Max, but I’m not in love with him. Anyway… where is this even coming from?"

Scratching the side of his neck, he studied the floor intently. "Well, I’ve been trying to figure out exactly why you wanted to break the, uh, bond."

"You think I want you to break it because of Max?"

"It makes sense…" Michael shrugged.

"No, no, no, no, no." Maria fell back onto the pillows dramatically. "God, you really don’t get me sometimes, do you? It has nothing to do with Max, Michael. Aside from the fact that you never gave me a choice – which-by-the-way-I-would-have-agreed-to – I’ve seen what this bond has done to you. And I can’t, in good conscience, keep you in a situation which will only make it worse." She reached over for the ice pack on the nightstand and placed it on her forehead.

"Still getting headaches?" Michael asked, concerned.

"Only when I’m stressed."

Michael walked over and sat next to her. "Come here," he urged, pulling her shoulder towards him. Maria resisted for a moment, but he knew it was only for show. It used to be a ritual – her curled up on the couch with her head in his lap, him massaging her temples and her neck. All the stress from the day – be it work, exams, or life in general – all seemed to melt away. It was another one of the little things she’d taken for granted - there was always something about Michael’s touch that eased her headaches, eased her in general.

His fingers ran through her hair, as one of his thumbs firmly rubbed the back of her neck. Maria let out a contented sigh, and placed a hand between her cheek and his thigh. Smiling, Michael looked down at the girl falling back into her slumber. Her breathing became deeper, and he could feel her body relaxing. He tried to untangle her necklace, but found that it was snagged on something. Michael slid his hand under the blanket and released the small pendant that had gotten caught. At the end of the silver chain was hanging the same ring that he’d given back to her the day before.

"Mmm… don’t stop."

"It’s been a while since I’ve heard those words coming from your mouth," he teased.

"I hate you," came her muffled reply.

"Yeah, I know…" He sighed, tucking the necklace back into her shirt. "I hate you too."

**

Knowing that Max would be angry for stealing his car, Michael made sure that they came back to the apartment with a large assortment of breakfast foods. Actually, it was partially to appease Max. Michael couldn’t bear to have a ‘healthy breakfast’ two mornings in a row.

Liz and Isabel were in the living room, flipping through the Sunday paper when Michael and Maria returned with bags of donuts and bagels. The four sat on the floor, passing the food around and chatting. Max came out, showered and dressed, and stood over Michael.

"Keys." He said, holding his hand out. Michael fished out the set in his pocket and handed them over. Max glared at him sternly, but it didn’t last for more than a minute before he sat down and grabbed a chocolate crème donut.

As the last bagel was devoured, by Michael of course, they all sat back, completely satiated. Maria leaned over towards Isabel and whispered, "So, were you able to…"

Isabel shook her head. "Actually," she paused, realizing she spoke louder than she’d meant to. "Actually," she began again, now with everyone’s attention. "Michael caught you on his own." Maria looked down and smiled to herself. "When we got to the cliff, I stood on the other side of you, ready to grab you when you tripped. But, this time he was a step ahead of me, and just as you started to stumble, he grabbed you and held you to him." Michael stroked Maria’s thigh lightly. "See," Isabel glanced at Michael. "Your dreams are getting better – it’s a good thing that you’ve stayed."

"How has everything been, Michael?" Liz asked. "Has anything gone back to… normal?"

"Not really." Michael bobbed his head from side to side. "I mean, a vision here and there, I still can’t manipulate matter or anything. But… I’ve felt more, comfortable would be the word, I guess."

"A little less off-balance." Maria said softly.

"Kinda." He smiled, touching her leg.

Isabel reached for her drink, then stopped midway across the table. She drew her arm back sharply and furrowed her eyebrows. "What did you just say?" she asked Maria.

"Um… that Michael was a little less off-balance."

"Max." Isabel whipped around to face her brother. "Max, do you still have…"

"In my room." He nodded. "I think you have one or two back in Roswell, but I should have the rest."

Getting excited, Isabel started to bounce in one place. "Maybe that’s what we need. Maybe that’s the key."

"It could work. But I don’t know what we would do with them." Max bit his lip.

"Anyone care to clue the rest of us in?" Maria asked with a tinge of sarcasm.

"The stones," Max answered, realizing that he and Isabel had tuned out their friends. "It’s an interesting possibility."

"Possibility?" Liz queried.

"Getting Michael back his balance." Isabel grinned. "Getting Michael back."

 

*~*~*

 

"I don’t see why we have to do this so far out in the woods," Maria complained. "It’s not like anyone would have bothered us at your place."

Liz hooked her arm through her best friend’s. They remained a quite a few yards behind Max, Michael and Isabel, who had been marching off towards some undisclosed location with a sense of purpose. Reason had yet to set in for them, as it had for Maria. The two girls drove in Maria’s car – the entire time Maria ranted about how Max and Isabel didn’t really know what they were doing and that there was a good chance it wouldn’t work. Whatever ‘it’ was.’ But as Liz parked the car, the blonde’s voice dropped lower. She was so concerned with Michael – how disappointed he would be, and how he would react if nothing happened. Babbling – another defense mechanism, Liz knew.

She squeezed Maria tighter and whispered, "Because there isn’t a cave that we know of, and it’s probably best if we’re away from everyone."

Max glanced over his shoulder to make sure that they were still behind him. Maria caught the sly smile that Liz gave him in return. "So, what’s up with you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I’ve noticed the radiant ‘afterglow’ you’ve been sporting all weekend. I’m about ready to nickname Max ‘Thumper.’"

"MARIA!" Liz shrieked, covering the noise in giggles. She looked at her friend, shocked, then dropped her head. "Is it *that* obvious?"

"Um, well, yeah… completely." The blonde nodded. "But don’t feel bad about it – I mean, if I had someone who was *that* in love with me, and wanted me *that* much, I’d sure as hell be flaunting it."

"I don’t know what it is, Maria. These last few days – he’s like a new Max. Strange… not that I’m complaining."

"I bet," Maria teased.

"No," Liz slapped her playfully. "It’s as if he found some renewed sense of, desire or something, for me, for our relationship."

Maria leaned her head on the brunette’s shoulder for a moment. "Maybe he just needed to be reminded of what he had."

"Maybe I did too."

**

The three aliens came to a stop near a small clearing in the middle of four oak trees. They stared at each other uncomfortably, not a one willing to admit that they didn’t know what to do next.

"Do you have the stones?" Max asked his sister, hoping that once they were in his hands, a plan would magically materialize.

"Uh, yeah," she responded, digging into the bag she brought. Isabel handed a stone to each of them and took one for herself before tying the bag back up.

"Maybe we should sit down." Avoiding their eyes, Max sat straight down and concentrated on the stone in his hands. Isabel and Michael followed suit, both studying their mysterious treasure.

"What should we do?" Michael asked, anxiety creeping into his voice.

"We could try chanting," Isabel suggested.

"Do you remember what River Dog had us chant?" Max cocked his head at his sister.

"No," she said quietly, shaking her head.

A distant owl’s cooing called out over the low echo of crickets. The crunching sound of approaching footsteps was accompanied by hushed whispers. Maria and Liz, upon seeing the three in some sort of conference, fell silent and leaned against one of the trees on the perimeter.

Isabel’s head snapped up. "River Dog said something about our energy heating up the stones. Maybe if we can somehow… do that again, maybe something will happen…"

"How do you we suggest we do that, Is?" Her brother asked, a little frustrated at her blind optimism.

"This is hopeless." Michael moved to get up.

"Michael, sit!" She ordered, then turned to Max. "And I don’t know, but at least it’s an idea. Maybe if we… meditate on them or something. It can’t hurt, Max."

Max nodded shamefully, then looked towards Michael. He remained sitting cross-legged, his head hung in impending failure. Max felt even worse – he was almost ready to admit defeat, not realizing or even attempting to acknowledge what Michael was going through. If it was Isabel who had lost her powers, would he be so ready to give up? If it was him, would he expect that Is and Michael would do all they could to help him? Closing his hands around the stone, Max closed his eyes and tried to concentrate harder than before.

Taking Max’s cue, Isabel did the same. She rubbed the stone between her palms – trusting that ‘it’ would know what to do. This was a lot more difficult than making a connection with someone – she didn’t know how to get ‘in,’ didn’t have anything to work with… except hope. A slight breeze swept over her face, and she could hear the muffled trickling of a nearby creek. Isabel tried to relax - her nervous energy wasn’t helping anything. A few minutes after her breathing had calmed to something a little more normal, she could feel an almost imperceptible tingling in her hands. Barely opening her eyes, she peeked through her eyelashes and gasped at what she saw.

There was a dim green light that was growing brighter by the second. Isabel’s eyes grew wider and she glanced over at her brother, who was experiencing the same thing. "MAX!" she yelled, and her brother opened his eyes. "Max, look – something is happening!"

Max looked down at the now-bright glow of the stone in his hands. He smiled in complete awe – he was shocked that they were actually able to get it to work. Isabel shared his grin, then checked on the other alien. "Michael?"

Michael shook his head painfully, slowly. "Nothing. Nothing’s happening. I told you… I don’t have it anymore." He opened his hands a little more and looked into the small cup he’d formed around the stone. In the center was a tiny, almost infinitesimal green light. It hadn’t been there a second ago. Opening his hands slightly wider, Michael stared down, hoping that the other two wouldn’t notice before he had a chance to clamp them back down around the stone. It was bad enough to think that he had lost all sorts of connection to his birthright, but to know that the last of what he had was about to disappear was even more devastating.

A strange feeling filled Maria. It was much more than just some sort of sympathetic pull towards Michael. She knew that, at that moment, he was losing his last straw of hope. Every inch of her body hurt with the most melancholic pain, and without thinking, she followed the instinct to go to Michael. Maria knelt behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against the middle of his back. Michael, after recovering from the momentary shock of her touch, was stunned to see that the minute glow had doubled in size, then quickly doubled *that* size. His hands fell free of the tight clasp he’d had them in, and Isabel almost laughed in glee.

"It’s working! It’s working!" Her stone was now glowing with an almost-blinding light, as was Max’s. They both flattened their palms, letting the stone lay flat. Michael did the same, and almost immediately a sharp light shot from Max’s stone to Isabel’s, then to Michael’s. The glow of Michael’s stone grew steadily, and about five seconds later, Isabel’s stone also poured energy into it. It was as if, on some other level, Max and Isabel were rebuilding the damage that had been done to Michael and his powers. Michael’s stone had surpassed the light given off by the two of them, and he had to close his eyes from the intense beam.

There was fierce flow of energy between the three stones, and it quickly utilized Isabel, Michael and Max to strengthen it. Their bodies throbbed with violent tremors, which were abated almost as abruptly when the stones shot another beam of light straight up. The aliens looked up at the pinnacle where the three lights were joined about ten feet above them. They had only seconds to marvel at the sight before a shockwave bore down on them.

All of a sudden, Maria felt her body being thrown from its warm haven, and she found herself sprawled out on her stomach a few feet from Michael. Liz ran over to her, and hugged her tightly, and the two girls looked back at the three aliens who had passed out. A new terror wracked them as they tried to contain their tears. Maria pulled her legs up against her, leaning into her best friend.

Max woke up first, sitting up slowly. Urged by Maria, Liz ran over to him and wrapped herself around him, burying her face in his neck. Isabel woke up next and crawled over to Michael who was still out. Slowly, Maria could see him come to, and tighten his grip around the woman in his arms.

"Are you okay?" Isabel asked, choking back a sob.

"Yeah," Michael replied, somewhat dazed.

"Do you feel any different? Do you feel like anything’s come back?" Max tried his best to eliminate all sense of expectation from his voice.

"I don’t know… maybe it’s too early to tell." Michael sighed. "But I definitely feel… more like I used to. Like I did when I was in Roswell." Isabel smiled, relieved, and squeezed him tighter, kissing his cheek.

It was like a bad déjà vu. Maria stared at Michael in Isabel’s arms and a familiar pain seared through her. She stood up and brushed herself off. On the other side of Michael and Isabel, Liz caught sight of Maria’s reaction. Whispering something to Max, she got up and returned to her friend’s side. Liz took Maria’s hand to steady her when she saw the wall of tears threatening to spill over. "Do you want to go?" she whispered. With her eyes clenched shut, Maria nodded in response.

Michael looked up in confusion as he saw Liz lead Maria away. Before he could speak, Liz waved to him and motioned towards the blonde. He nodded in understanding.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, home." Maria smiled too cheerfully, trying to mask the gnawing pain.

"Why?"

"I have to get up early, store stuff, you know." She touched his hand. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

"But… I don’t want you to go." He shook his head, trying to figure out why she was leaving him… now.

"I have to, Michael. Besides, you should be here with Max and Isabel."

"Maria."

"Please, Michael." The words caught in her throat. "Just… just let me go."

As she turned to walk away, Michael grabbed her, his thumb pressing in the middle of her wrist. An image flashed – the cave, Maria standing a few feet away from him and Isabel, behind Max. That night he completely missed the heartbroken look on her face, the feelings of relief only beginning to seep into the terror that had taken over. All of that was rushing back at her, assailing her with doubts of his feelings for her yet again. Maria’s eyes shone with panic – as soon as Michael touched her, she knew he was in her mind, knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Even with everything, Maria had been hiding behind what was left of her own personal stone wall. Now he was threatening to knock over the last few stones she had up.

He pulled her to him, his hands slowly sliding up the length of her arms. Cupping her face in his strong hands, Michael wiped away a single tear that had managed to escape. Oblivious to everything around them, everyone intently watching their every move, Michael kissed Maria. This time she only cursed him for a second before giving in totally. Her breath was completely lost in his, her body, exhausted from emotion, fell into him. Michael wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her standing, feeling her arms embrace his neck. He cradled her head in his hand and held her rigidly against his chest, as if he feared he might fall away too. "Please…" he whispered into her ear. "Don’t."


	12. Chapter 12

"Well, thanks for walking me in, but I think I’m okay from here." Maria paused in the entrance of her kitchen, watching Michael come up the stairs.

"You sure?" He asked, standing barely an inch away.

"Mmmm Hmmm…" She looked up at him with a sly smile.

"Because, I can stay for a little longer, you know." Licking his lips, Michael ran his finger underneath her chin. "Just in case you…"

"I’ll be *fine,*" Maria soothed, gently rolling her head back to give him more access to her throat.

"Mmm… then I guess I should be going…" Michael straightened as his fingers lost final contact with her skin. "Oh, the hell with it…" He surged for her mouth, slightly sucking on her bottom lip. Maria slid her palms up his chest, marveling at the mere feel of him. His kisses trailed against her jawline, gently nipping at her earlobe before traveling down her neck.

"You really don’t need to… Oh, God," Maria moaned, gripping her fingers into his shoulders. His hands reached down towards her bottom and clutched her against him. Haggardly breathing into his chest, she shuddered as his tongue slid down her collarbone. "Aren’t they… uh… aren’t they waiting for you downstairs? Oh…"

"No." He started to unbutton her shirt. She could hear the fabric tearing slightly from his frustrated tugs. "I told them to go," he said, pushing the top off her shoulders.

"Aren’t you the presumptuous one… oh, don’t stop that." His thumbs brushed over the satin of her bra. "I love when you do that…" Maria arched her back as he returned to her neck, his lips barely hovering over her skin – his tongue occasionally darting out to taste her.

"Couch or bed?"

"Hmmm?" Maria’s eyes fluttered open as she tried to discern what he had said.

"Couch or bed?" Michael repeated, his hands sliding to her hips.

"Ummm…"

Physically frustrated by her indecision, Michael hoisted Maria up onto the ledge behind her. "Table it is, then."

Maria pulled at the bottom of his shirt, then her hands traveled up his chest slowly, her touch as tentative as a new lover’s. Michael shuddered at the feel of her nails gently scraping against his skin. His palms bore down on her shoulders, in hopes that it would keep him standing. Wrapping her legs around his thighs, Maria leaned forward and swept her tongue along the hollow of his throat. Groaning, Michael dropped his head and sought out her lips yet again.

Suddenly, Maria pulled away. "When are you leaving?"

"What?" He stood stiff, confused by the blunt detour.

"Michael, I know what you’re thinking." Maria sat back and smoothed her hair down. "I can *feel* what you’re thinking. And, I guess I’m not surprised. I mean, you’ve dealt with what you had to. You don’t need us, you don’t need me anymore…"

"Stop." He pressed his finger to her lips. "It’s not what you’re thinking. I just had an image of that time… when we, um, broke the kitchen cabinet in my old apartment."

"We *did* do that, didn’t we?" Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she laughed in spite of herself.

"Yeah…" His thumb stroked her cheek softly. "And I started to think about my new apartment, how it’s never really been more than a place to sleep. But… there are a few things that I wanted to bring back with me."

"Bring back?"

"Well, this seems like a nice town. I thought I might hang out here for a little while."

"Oh." Maria kept her head down. This was not something she was expecting. Actually, she didn’t really know what she was expecting, but somehow the idea of Michael staying had never occurred to her. Then again, neither did the idea of him leaving. She didn’t give much thought to what he’d be doing tomorrow, the next day, or next week. For some reason, time always seemed to stand still when Michael was around.

Michael reached around her neck, unclasping the long silver chain she was wearing. The small ring easily slid into his hand, and they both stared at it, afraid to speak. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, once again feeling her energy emanating from it. But it wasn’t pain this time, and it wasn’t purely *her* energy. There was something in him that responded to it.

"But I’ll understand if I’m not welcome. I know Max still isn’t thrilled to have me around – he puts up with it because of Isabel. And you – God, sometimes I wonder why you still talk to me. I did something totally selfish, I screwed up your life…" His hands were clenched in tight fists, his composure starting to break. "And I don’t know how to stop it. I didn’t give you any choice in the matter, and it was wrong." Michael looked up into her eyes, terrified from both his burst of honesty and her potential reaction. "And I’m sorry."

Maria took his face in her hands, and cocked her head. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For finally thinking of me."

"What do you mean? I’ve always~" Michael sputtered.

"No, you didn’t." She dropped her arms, placing her hands over his fists. "You only thought about what *you* wanted, you did what *you* wanted, and you never think about how it will affect other people." He breathed in deeply and looked away from her. "But, the thing is, you *do* affect other people, Michael. You can’t stop that, no matter how much you want to. And you can’t keep us from caring, no matter how much you want to. Because we care – Max, Isabel, Liz, even Alex – we all care, we all love you. *I* love you, Michael."

"God, Maria…" Michael winced at her words.

"Shhh…" she said, placing her thumb over his parted lips. "I’m not looking for a response. It’s my turn to be selfish, it’s my turn to do something because *I* needed to." Maria tugged his chin so that he’d look at her. Then she turned her attention to his hands, pulling his fingers away from his palms. Her left thumb pressed down on the ring still in his right hand. She traced over the edge and looked up at Michael who was staring at her in nervous anticipation.

"I’m not… I can’t… I don’t want to fuck your life up again." He stumbled over the words, preparing himself for the worst. But Maria just smiled, the same smile that she wore when he woke up in her arms after five years of absence, the same smile that he felt when he laid in her bed in Roswell, after the Hank fiasco. He remembered her sitting in Max’s apartment as he cooked her breakfast. It was only now that the weight of his realization truly dawned on him. That she loved him, no matter what. Grasping the ring, Michael ran his finger over her left hand. "I didn’t let you have a choice last time. I don’t blame you for…"

Pulling him down to her, Maria cut him off with a kiss. Her lips were so gentle, but he could feel a passion burning deep inside her. Instead of fighting it like he normally did, Michael let himself flow into her, and let her come into him. It all hit him at once – her forgiveness, her desire, her fear, her need, and her love. It was almost overwhelming, in fact, days earlier it would have been too much for him to handle, and he would have been on the first bus back to Lydia. But now it filled the empty hole he felt everyday, and it started to break down the constant feeling of being lost. As he felt her tongue slid between his lips, Michael pulled away tenderly, knowing that he’d get distracted and lose his nerve. He rested his forehead against hers and admired her.

Holding the ring between his thumb and forefinger, he brought it up to the small space separating them. Maria raised her hand and let him slide it back onto her finger, back to the home that it had known for so long. The cool metal immediately warmed from the heat of her skin, and she sighed heavily as the uneasiness that she’d been feeling for the past few days began to subside. They both studied the way the ring fit so perfectly on her finger, completely understanding the implications of their simple actions. Michael clasped his left hand with hers, and she smiled at the sound of the two metal rings scraping against each other.

"Michael?" He pulled back and looked at her. She grinned slyly at him. "Bed."

**

Moist lips trailed tender kisses along Maria’s shoulder towards neck. She shivered from the contact, and rolled back towards him, feeling his hand slide down the length of his arm. He smiled against her throat when he heard the little whimper of pleasure escape. Slightly annoyed at his sudden pride, Maria stretched out away from him.

"Don’t think that’s going to make me forgive you or anything."

Michael froze, then blinked his eyes repeatedly. Was this yet another dream? Did nothing happen last night – the forest, the ring, the… bed? Then, how did he get here, next to Maria, and why were they both naked? He propped himself up on one elbow and brought his other arm back to his side, fearful of what she might say if he touched her again.

"You know what I’ve enjoyed the most about the last five years?" Maria mumbled, still with her back to him. "That I have a big bed *all* to myself. And a big blanket *all* to myself. No one to sprawl out in the middle and pushing me off to the side. No stupid boys to steal the blanket and make me lie here freezing cold." A quiet chuckle betrayed the anger she was trying to put off to him, and, relieved, Michael rested his head next to hers on the pillow. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Poor you," he said, smoothing his hand over her stomach. "With nothing to complain about for five years. I feel for you, really…" A pillow swung out and nailed him squarely in the head. By the time he recovered from the shock, Maria was curled back up, looking deceptively angelic. Michael bit into her skin teasingly, his fingers tickling her sides. A fit of giggles erupted, and panting, Maria flipped over to face him.

"You’re evil."

"You hit me."

"You deserved it."

Michael sighed, then acquiesced. He glanced down and grabbed her left hand, his thumb once again caressing the silver ring he’d given her. Maria watched him, touched by the look of adoration and amazement on his face. The events of the night before were beginning to settle in. More than the forest, more than the stones and the lights, more than anything else, what Maria remembered most vividly was the choice she made. Michael held the ring, and she offered him her hand. They were truly joined – not by his doing, or her doing – but by *their* doing. Maria took his hand and squeezed it.

"So, how do you feel? Any different?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your, uh, non-human status. Has it returned?" Maria touched his cheek.

"Oh. Some, I think. I was playing with your nail polish bottle earlier, and I could change the colours. And last night, I… saw things."

A sheepish grin spread across Maria’s face. "Yeah," she said softly, "Me too."

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers. She always tasted the same – that perfect combination that he was always searching for and could never quite duplicate. Maria slung a leg over his hips, gently gyrating against him. Michael felt dizzy, she had this way of making him so woozy by just being around him. Every nerve ending begged to be touched by her silky smooth skin, every part of him wanted to envelop her and never leave her side. But he had to leave, at least long enough to go home and get the few worthwhile things he owned.

"I… I’m going to have to go soon."

"I know," Maria lowered her head, resting it on his chest. "When?"

"Not sure," Michael traced circles on her back. "I was thinking that I’d hang out until Isabel left."

"Makes sense."

"But I’ll be back," he affirmed.

Pulling away from him, Maria bit her lip. "Will you?"

"I’ll come back to you." Michael kissed the crown of her head.

The alarm clock on the night table started buzzing. Maria rolled onto her back and checked the time. "Oh…" she moaned. "I *so* don’t want to go down and open the store today."

Michael grazed his fingers up her thigh. "Can’t that Lucy girl do it?" he murmured against her ear.

"She has the day, uh…" The feel of Michael’s gentle and determined touch interrupted Maria’s train of thought. "…off. I have to get up…mmm…"

Licking her earlobe, Michael doubled his efforts. "Maybe you can close the store for the day."

"Uh… can’t. Have. Bills. Need. Money. Must. Open. Store." Maria was incapable of anything more than one-syllable sentences.

"Then maybe you can open it late today."

"I’d have to get up and put a note on the door. I don’t think I can get up right now."

Chuckling, Michael turned her face towards his and kissed her lightly. "I’ll do it. I’ll be right back."

As he got up and left the room, Maria studied his every movement, still a little overwhelmed at the fact he was with her, that he was *with* her. He walked around the bed, running his fingers through his hair, and she licked her lips mindlessly as her eyes raked over his muscular back. In some ways, the past five years had very much changed him for the better. She rolled back over to her side as he left her bedroom, listening to him rifle through her keys, looking for the right ones. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

"Uh, Michael?" she called out to him.

"Yeah?" He popped his head back into the room.

"Jeans," she smirked. "Jeans would probably be a good thing."

**

The next week went by quickly. Isabel had predictably monopolized most of Michael’s time, insisting that she was leaving soon and wouldn’t be out for a while. Max and Liz kept retiring to the bedroom earlier and earlier each night, and the tension between him and Michael eased a little more as the days went on. The store was rather busy, keeping Maria from spending more than an evening or two with the gang. But there wasn’t a morning that she wasn’t nudged out of sleep by a trail of kisses leading up from the small of her back.

After a long Sunday of goodbyes, Max and Maria returned to her apartment. They had just dropped Michael off at the bus station, and Isabel’s flight had taken off earlier in the afternoon. Liz had gone home to finish grading papers – leaving them to their own devices. They stomped up the stairs with bags and bags of groceries. Exhausted from the day, Maria tossed everything on the kitchen table and walked over to the sink for a glass of water.

"Is this your napkin holder?"

Maria turned around to see Max holding the wooden contraption at eye level, squinting at it skeptically. "Yup."

"What happened to it?"

"It fell – Michael fixed it."

Wrinkling his nose, Max placed it back on the table. "Well, he didn’t do a very good job. You can still see where it’s broken. I can~"

"No," Maria interrupted, grabbing his hand. "Leave it, I like it the way it is."

Shrugging, Max started to unpack the groceries. "So, do you think he’s coming back?"

"Michael?" The blonde pursed her lips. "Honestly? I don’t know."

"Will you be okay if he doesn’t?"

"Eventually." She smiled. "I’ve made it through many a-Michael Guerin-heartbreak before, I can do it again. Plus, I’ve got good friends to help me through." She handed him the glass he was reaching for. As he took a sip, Maria cocked an eyebrow mischievously. "Although I think I’ll skip the ‘sex therapy’ this time."

Max spat out a mouthful of water and bent over the table, clutching the edge. His body was wracked with hacking coughs, his gasps barely letting in any air. "Uh…"

Chuckling, Maria went over and patted his back. "Oh, c’mon. It’s been a week since I’ve really gotten to tease you, and that was *so* worth it – the reaction alone." She waited until he regained his composure. "Seriously, though. This is one of those big tests of trust. He said he’d come back, and I have to trust him." Maria touched Max lightly on the nose. "And so do you."

"I know, I know…" He said, taking a deep breath. His lungs were trying to get back to some sort of normalcy. "I’m working on it… It’s just… he’s so…"

"Michael." Maria finished for him. "Impulsive, infuriating alien extraordinaire. But… amazing, passionate, and strangely vulnerable."

"You know him so much better than I do." His tone reflected a sense of hurt, that even with all they had shared, Michael was somewhat of a stranger to him.

 

"No, I don’t." She touched his cheek, smiling. "Sometimes he just lets me… in a little more than other people. He lets me understand him a little bit more."

"Even when he doesn’t understand himself." Max clasped his hand over hers.

A flush of red covered Maria’s face. She glanced away from Max’s stare, narrowing her eyes at something across the room. Edging past him, she walked over to the refrigerator and plucked an envelope off the door.

"What is it?" Max asked, watching her open the envelope.

Shivers shot up Maria’s spine as she unfolded the letter. It was plain white paper, she recognized it from her box of stationery. But it was his handwriting – Michael’s. She shook her head in disbelief – just when she thought…

"Maria?"

"Oh, um," Maria bit her lip, but it didn’t keep the amazed grin from growing. "It’s a… It’s a…" She nodded, still staring at the paper. "It’s from Michael."

"What does it say?" Max furrowed his eyebrows.

"Just, uh," she quickly scanned over the paper one last time. Putting it back into the envelope, Maria placed it on the corner of the table, ignoring Max’s inquiring gaze. "Something he didn’t get a chance to tell me before he left."

Curiosity got the better of Max, and as soon as Maria turned around to put something away, he snatched the envelope and held it beneath the table to read the letter. It was not addressed to anyone, nor signed, but the telltale handwriting was classic Michael. Down the center, a short poem was scrawled.

 

 _"somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond_  
any experience,your eyes have their silence:   
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,  
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

 _your slightest look will easily unclose me_  
though i have closed myself as fingers,  
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens  
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

 _or if your wish be to close me, i and_  
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,   
as when the heart of this flower imagines   
the snow carefully everywhere descending;   
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals   
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture   
compels me with the color of its countries,   
rendering death and forever with each breathing

 _(i do not know what it is about you that closes_  
and opens;only something in me understands   
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)   
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Michael, Maria and others don't belong to me. Not in the slightest. 
> 
> The poem? not mine, or Michael's - e.e. cummings.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Diamonds in the Snow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103345) by [loki (lokigurl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokigurl/pseuds/loki)




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